


Truth, Lies, and Storytelling

by BreathOfThePhoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Era, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Post-War, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 122,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreathOfThePhoenix/pseuds/BreathOfThePhoenix
Summary: “Hermione,” Harry took a deep breath and flipped the book over to see the back cover, “why is my name on this?”“Like I said, someone is writing about us. The film we just saw was based on that book,” Hermione tapped the cover of the book on the top of the stack, “and it was incredibly accurate.”Harry passed the stack of books over to Ginny, holding on to the first one. He turned the title of the book over in his head, mumbling the words quietly to himself.“Harry Potter... me... Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Philosopher’s stone. Hermione, this feels weird. Am I the narrator?”When Hermione and Draco uncover a familiar new film called “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” they learn that the wizarding world may not be as well hidden as they thought.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 476
Kudos: 422





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first fic!
> 
> Huge amounts of Beta love to PotionChemist for reviewing this and keeping my thoughts organized into one voice!
> 
> I do not own anything. All rights to JKRowling

**November 2001**

“How is this even possible?”

“Love, calm down. It’s just a silly story.”

“But to think... to think that... I just... UGH!”

Hermione pushed her chair back from the dining room table in rage. She threw the Muggle newspaper down on the table in a huff, her magic rippling out from her in a rage. 

Pressing his slim fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinching tightly, Draco, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Salazar knew he didn’t want to say the wrong thing when he could practically see the magic ebbing from her. 

He just wanted to see a film. That’s all. Hermione had been telling him about how much she loved going to the cinema with her parents and he wanted to know what all the fuss was about. 

He wished he had never asked. 

“Was it not enough that there was a war going on? And now to find out someone was profiting from us the entire time!” Hermione screeched. There was the distant sound of crystal shattering behind them. Draco closed his eyes. _Sod it. It was probably that ugly bowl anyway._

“Love, I really think you’re overreacting about—“ 

“OVERREACTING?” She spun to face him, striding closer until he could feel her breath tickle under his chin. She’d be threatening if not for the height difference. 

“No...” he sighed again, taking a deep breath and placing his hands on her upper arms to calm her. “Hermione, love, you’re forgetting that people have profited from your life many times before. It was always lies. Why does this bother you so much more? It’s just some Muggle film.”

Her eyes tightened into a glare, tipping her head back to look at him more closely. “Well, love, it bothers me because... because the Statute of Secrecy is being violated! What if someone finds out it’s all real? And then what? Not to mention, again, that someone is profiting from my life!”

“I mean, technically it’s—“

“AND ANOTHER THING! Has he not suffered enough? Have we all not lost enough already? And now to lose our privacy in the one place I thought we all had it!” Hermione’s magic rippled again and Draco flinched as sparks nipped at his fingers. He inhaled through clenched teeth and dropped his fingers from her shoulders. 

There was a pause as Hermione took a deep breath and began quietly counting backwards from ten. She turned her back to him, surely knowing that this was not his fault. She had been working on controlling her outbursts of anger and frustration, and she would feel incredibly guilty if she put him in St Mungos...again. 

Silence stretched longer, broken only by the faint sound of music playing from the other room. 

Finally, Hermione turned on her heel and smirked at Draco. “Get your things, we’re going to see a film.” 

He opened his mouth to retort but paused, rolling the words around before settling on the right question. “Are you sure you want to see this film? We could find a different cinema or just go another day. Aren’t Potter and she-Potter coming over later?”

“We’re going to see this film,” she said with finality in her voice. 

* * *

Two hours and 32 minutes of film, and a trip to a Muggle bookstore later, Draco was left with a scowl on his face. Idiotic Muggles and their dumb films and books. 

Hermione let out a small giggle at Draco’s tantrum. She quickly slid the books into her beaded bag with the undetectable extension charm on it. 

“It’s not funny,” Draco said finally, “I will not have him over for drinks again until he apologizes to me. Stupid git wouldn’t shake my hand.”

“Draco! That was ages ago!” Hermione glanced up at him and grinned. “He apologized after the war, and at our engagement party, and even again last week. You have to remember how he was raised. He didn’t have your privileges.” 

“How could I forget? I just watched a film about his sodding life! Not to mention that there are books about it too!” There was a pause as Draco sighed and closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was low and unsure. “Was it really that bad for him?” 

Hermione sobered at that. Her smile fell and she watched Draco until he opened his eyes again. “Yes, it was, but that wasn’t your fault. You were a child. You were a right prat, but you were not at fault for his home life.”

She leaned up and pulled him into a deep kiss, hoping to convince him that he was no longer the spoiled child he had been portrayed as. Unfortunately, much of the film was accurate, and she knew that Draco hated being reminded of the wanker he once was, of the things he went through in his teen years. She didn’t even want to think about what might be in the books. 

As if reading her thoughts, Draco asked, “What if there are more books? What if they write about fifth and sixth year?”

“Malfoy… Draco,” Hermione stroked his cheek gently, “you are not that boy. Hell, you were never that boy. You know that, and I know that, and Harry knows that. We know you’re a good man. Our world knows the part you played. They don’t doubt you. Don’t let a world that has never met the real Draco Malfoy define who you are.”

There was a long silence as Draco pressed his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he said finally, pressing a featherlight kiss to her temple. 

“Come on, Harry and Ginny will be waiting for us.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him around the corner, out of sight. Hugging him close, she Apparated them to the front porch of their small country cottage. 

Small by Draco’s standards. He refused to call it a mansion since it didn’t have a ballroom and it was _not_ a mansion without a ballroom. It was all semantics to Hermione. 

The large Tudor style home sat in the middle of a large clearing. There was ivy growing up the sides, and the flowers Neville had given them as a housewarming gift were still in full bloom. Even though it was late November, much of the home was still surrounded by beauty — Neville had really outdone himself, bringing plants that would bloom colour year round, even in the harsh British winters. 

Hermione smiled at the sight of _their_ home, always thankful that she was able to convince Draco to move out of the manor. The promise of shagging in every room had helped her win _that_ argument. 

“Finally you’re back! We’ve been waiting for ages,” yelled Ginny from the drawing room when they entered. “Harry was convinced you’d forgotten about our plans for drinks this evening.” She smirked at the dark-haired wizard sitting beside her.

“I was not,” Harry whined at his wife. He crossed his arms and let out a huff of air, making the black fringe in front of his face flutter. 

Smiling, Hermione pulled Ginny into a tight hug and laughed, “Of course we didn’t! We just had an interesting evening. I took Draco to see a film.”

“Stupid Muggles,” Draco grumbled, stomping into the room and right past Harry. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. He’s just upset that the Muggles think he’s a bully.” 

“I was eleven! Didn’t you say all young boys are evil?” Draco stalked over to their liquor cabinet and pulled out the firewhisky, tipping the large bottle back and taking a long pull from the amber liquor. When he was done, he held the bottle out to Harry and grimaced, “Your life sucks. You need a drink.”

Harry gaped at the words but accepted the bottle anyway. After taking a drink and handing it back to Draco, he looked to Hermione for answers. 

“It seems someone sold our story to the Muggle world,” she said, scowling as she settled on the couch. She tugged at Draco’s hand until he sat next to her, still brooding. Apparently their talk moments ago hadn’t been as effective as she had hoped. “There are four books so far… and a film.” 

“And I’m barely in it!” Draco cried dramatically, covering his face with his arm. He pulled the bottle to his lips again. Rolling her eyes, Hermione grabbed the bottle from him. She took a deep pull of firewhisky before offering it to Ginny.

“No thanks, practice tomorrow,” the ginger witch said, shaking her head with a small smile. “What do you mean someone is writing our story? About the war?”

“I am not a bully!” Draco wailed again. He sat up abruptly and looked at Hermione with panic in his eyes. “Am I a bully?”

Hermione patted Draco on the shoulder, smirking at him. “No, love. Not anymore at least.”

Ginny let out a loud cough to cover her laugh and Draco scowled at her. Flopping his head back into Hermione’s lap, he continued to pout. 

“Hermione, I’m confused. What’s going on?” Harry asked, his brow furrowed and a frown on his face. 

Reaching into her bag, Hermione pulled out four books. The first three were smaller, similar in size to some of the fiction novels she’d read as a child. The last one was bigger than the three others combined. Watching his face for a reaction, she handed them over to Harry.

“Hermione,” Harry took a deep breath and flipped the book over to see the back cover, “why is my name on this?”

“Like I said, someone is writing about us. The film we just saw was based on that book,” Hermione tapped the cover of the book on the top of the stack, “and it was incredibly accurate. Even some of the conversations we had with Ron in privacy were included. I don’t know how someone got so much detail. Rita would make sense, but being a pureblood, I doubt she’d know enough about the Muggle world to make a profit there, much less have a desire to do so.”

Harry passed the stack of books over to Ginny, holding on to the first one. He turned the title of the book over in his head, mumbling the words quietly to himself. 

“Harry Potter... me... Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Philosopher’s stone. Hermione, this feels weird. Am I the narrator?”

Hermione nodded and handed him the firewhisky. Ginny grabbed the third book, knowing what her own story was during Harry’s second year and likely not wanting to be reminded of it, should she even be included. She passed the two remaining books to Draco, who immediately handed the larger one to Hermione, knowing better than to give her the short one.

“What do we do?” Harry asked quietly, still not looking up from the book that showed a boy with a strong resemblance to him in his younger years. He traced one finger over the lightning bolt scar on his own forehead, and another over the matching one on the book.

“I don’t know, Harry. I guess there’s only one place to start.” Hermione cracked open her book and took a deep inhale. She loved the smell of a new book, even if this one came with a hidden mystery attached.

No one said a word as they all scanned their books. Harry’s eyes widened as he flipped through the pages, and Ginny gasped when she caught sight of her own name written in the text. 

Laying with his head in Hermione’s lap, Draco scrutinized the words as if they insulted him. Which they did. He hated being reminded of a time when he said thoughtless things and hurt the people he loved most. 

“Hey, Granger,” Draco said finally, “why does this one say you turned yourself into a cat?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left a comment, Kudos, or bookmarked this fic. You're all so wonderful!
> 
> Massive amounts of beta love to PotionChemist for editing this and never failing to leave encouraging words! 
> 
> A huge thank you to Charlie9646 for the beautiful artwork. I'm amazed at your work!
> 
> As always, I do not own anything. All rights to JK Rowling

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

**November 2001**

Hermione’s face went white. Draco sat up and looked at her, trying to catch her eye as she looked everywhere but at him.

“Well, you see… There was this… And then… You remember how little Harry trusted you. Blame him!”

“Oh, no you don’t! You do not get to blame Potter for this. Fess up, Granger. What did you do?” 

Hermione nervously bit her bottom lip. She looked to Ginny and Harry for help only to find them doubled over with silent laughter. 

Between bursts of laughter, Ginny said, “She had a tail!”

 _Traitor_.

Draco looked at Hermione with a cocked eyebrow and smirk. “A tail? I know you’re the Brightest Witch of her Age, Hermione, but I didn’t know you were an Animagus at thirteen.” 

Hermione glared at him. “It was _Polyjuice_ , thank you very much. And there was a very small, unexpected error that I absolutely could not have planned for.”

“Wait. Polyjuice? You told me about that years ago — Harry and Ron disguised themselves as Crabbe and Goyle. You said you brewed it but they went without you. You never did say why you stayed behind.” Draco turned and looked at Harry. “Why didn’t she come with you?”

Hermione gave Harry a pointed glare, trying to silently threaten him into not saying a word. He hid his face in his hands. Whether it was an attempt to cover his laughter or be a good friend, Hermione wasn’t sure.

Ginny slid to the floor in uncontrollable laughter. “A tail! And the whiskers! Oh, Malfoy, you should have seen it!”

“You weren’t even there!” Hermione exclaimed, tossing a pillow at Ginny’s head. Ginny dodged the flying object. _Damn Quidditch players and their quick reflexes._

“Ron was very descriptive in his retelling.” Ginny wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Hermione toyed with the hem of her sweater, resigning all hope of keeping this tiny, completely insignificant detail from Draco. He would tease her mercilessly for it. “Millicent Bulstrode. I was supposed to drink the Polyjuice Potion and sneak into the common room as Millicent.”

“And?” Draco prompted.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione tried to calm her nerves. After a moment, she exhaled and quickly said, “Millicent had a cat that I didn’t know about and I accidentally took a cat hair and turned myself into a cat.”

There was silence and all Hermione could hear was her own heart beating in her ears. 

Draco’s jaw dropped. He looked to Harry and Ginny, as if he was waiting for them to tell him it was all a joke. Turning back to Hermione, his face split into a wide grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. 

“Draco Malfoy, don’t you dare say a thing,” Hermione warned, pointing at him in an attempt to be stern.

“I won’t say a thing... _kitten_.”

That’s when Draco ended up on the floor with Ginny.

But only because Hermione pushed him off the couch. 

* * *

Ginny left not long afterwards, claiming that she needed rest before her Quidditch practice the next morning. She dragged her drunk and giggling husband behind her. “I’m sorry Harry drank all the good firewhisky, Malfoy.” 

“No you’re not,” Draco replied with a lighthearted chuckle. He had grown to like she-Potter and her quick banter with him, even if he refused to call her by her given name.

“I’m really not.” Giving Hermione a quick hug goodbye, she continued, “Let’s meet for lunch on Monday. I’m sure you’ll have some theories about who this J.K. Rowling could be.” 

Harry snorted. “It’s Hermione. She’ll have this whole mess sorted by then, won’t you ‘Mione?”

“As long as you never call me ‘Mione again,” she teased, pulling Harry into a hug. 

Once Ginny and Harry had left, Hermione curled up against Draco on the couch, having forgiven him for laughing at her misfortune. After all, it had happened almost ten years ago. He pulled her tight against his chest, relishing the way her body moulded to his. They both grabbed the books they had been reading earlier. 

There were certainly aspects of the book that Draco hated, particularly the parts where he was a bully to Hermione. It killed him to know that so much of the story was factual. 

She was right — he had made amends for the things he did and said when he was younger long ago, but there was a part of him that would always be infuriated that he'd been taught to treat her as less than him because of her blood, at the energy he wasted listening to outdated and purist ideologies. 

Barely an hour later, Hermione was trying to pry the book from his hands.

“What are you doing, witch?” Draco asked, swatting Hermione’s hands from his book. “‘I’m not done yet!” 

“You already know the story! Harry wins. Now let me at it!” 

Draco laughed loudly at her insistence. “You read too quickly. You only bought the book earlier today.”

Hermione huffed and took the book he offered to her. “They’re children’s novels. I was reading books like this long before I even knew I was a witch.” Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss to his mouth, her lips barely brushing his. “I’m going to take a bath before bed.”

She stood up and stretched, her shirt rising up slightly. Draco caught a glimpse of the creamy skin of her abdomen. Before she could move away, he reached out and pulled her closer so she was standing between his legs. He ran his hands along her sides and down to cup her arse.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, placing kisses along the exposed skin of her stomach. She carded her free hand through his platinum locks, holding him against her.

“Why don’t you come join me in the bath?”

Draco kissed her abdomen again and hummed a response. “Lead the way, my love.”

Before taking his hand and pulling him to his feet, Hermione leaned over and kissed him again, this time with a bit more heat. They made their way through the large house to the master bedroom on the second floor. 

When they started looking for a home, Hermione had presented Draco with a list of requests. She wanted to ensure that the place felt like theirs. The first item on the list was obviously a large library. The second was a bathtub big enough for both of them. 

It had taken them months to finally find a house they both loved. Draco wanted to enlarge the tub that was already in the en suite, but Hermione insisted that it had to be a proper tub. They finally settled on a large antique clawfoot tub. It now sat against a large window that overlooked the rolling hills of Surrey and quickly became one of his favourite places to be.

Draco settled into the curve of the tub, enjoying the floral soap he had come to associate with Hermione. She stepped into the tub after him, humming pleasantly when he tucked her in against his chest. 

They stayed snuggled together, talking quietly about everything and nothing, Draco frequently placing soft kisses behind her ears and nipping at her shoulder and neck lovingly. 

“How are you? With all of these...old memories resurfacing,” she asked him softly. 

His chest rose and fell with his breaths, and she closed her eyes in relaxation.

“Me? I’m alright. It’s been tough reliving our earlier years. I feel like I need to apologize to you again.”

Tipping her head back, Hermione placed a kiss on his jaw. “Please don’t apologize again. It was nearly a decade ago. I know who you are, Draco.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. He felt her hands tighten on his arms, so he pulled her closer to him, his hands moving up her stomach to graze the crease under her breasts. 

Hermione groaned when he broke the kiss. She twisted until she was facing him, spilling soapy water on to the floor, and cupped his face in her hands.

Draco tangled one hand in her hair and placed the other on her waist, pulling her so she was straddling him. He kissed her deeply, letting his tongue dance with hers. Hermione rolled her pelvis against his hardening cock and moaned with desire.

Needing to taste every inch of her, his lips moved to her jaw, ghosting kisses down her neck, sucking delicately on the swell of her breast. He felt her thrust against him, his cock straining at the contact.

Sliding his hands under her legs, Draco stood and pulled her out of the water, their kiss never breaking. He carefully stepped out of the tub and carried her to their bed, not caring about the watery mess he was leaving in their wake. That was what magic was for, right? 

He tossed her on the bed and crawled on top of her, his hand immediately finding her breast.

“Draco…” Hermione moaned. She rolled her head back as Draco’s lips moved down her jaw and neck. He squeezed her breast before pulling her nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the sensitive bud. 

His other hand moved lower on her soft abdomen, sliding over her pubic bone and grazing her wet folds. He dipped a single finger into her center and felt her buck into his hand. Grinning, he teased her nipple with his tongue as he slid a second digit into her.

“Ah! Oh, oh keep going. I need more,” Hermione moaned, her fingernails scraping down his back and around the sharp corners of his hips. She took his firm cock into her hand and stroked slowly, driving him mad.

Draco’s mouth moved from her breast, licking, nipping, and sucking his way down her body. He groaned when his hard cock slipped from her tiny hand, but he wanted to make sure this was about her pleasure first. While his fingers were still pumping into her, he placed a gentle kiss over her clit. 

Gasping, Hermione gripped his hair as he sucked her sensitive bud into his mouth. She squeezed her thighs around his shoulders, holding him tight to her. Her breathing accelerated and he knew if he continued like this, she would reach a blissful orgasm in no time.

“Come for me, love. I want to taste you on my tongue.”

Her hands released Draco’s hair and gripped the silky sheets below her as she arched her back and cried out. Slipping a hand under her arse, Draco held her to his mouth, sucking and licking as she came. He had never tasted anything as delicious as her and knew he never would. She was complete perfection. 

Draco moved up the bed and kissed Hermione deeply, loving how her tongue dipped into his mouth to taste herself. He pumped his cock twice before lining it up with her core, easing the tip in slowly.

He broke the kiss and waited for her eyes to open and give him consent. Finally, her chocolate eyes, blown wide with arousal, met his silver ones. She dipped her head once, and he thrust into her fully, letting out a pleasurable groan. 

Hermione’s hands gripped his back, and he knew he’d have scratches tomorrow. He loved it when she left marks, claiming him as hers. He thrust into her harder, deeper, feeling her tight muscles contract around him.

Draco pulled her leg over his hip so he could change the angle and groaned when her fingers tightened on his back.

“Can’t... can’t hold on much longer.” Her breathing was shallow and her eyes rolled back with pleasure. Draco could feel her small frame shaking against him. 

“Come for me,” he said, prompting her second orgasm to begin. 

She screamed out his name as he thrust into her again and again.

Draco’s climax followed quickly and he was soon spilling into her. Resting his head on her chest, he felt the sweat drip down his face.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Draco murmured. He rolled to his side, pulling Hermione in close. He pushed her wet curls off her face and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Draco’s eyelids, weighed heavy with satisfaction, were just starting to close as Hermione spoke. 

“What if we never find out who’s writing these books?” she whispered.

“We will, Hermione. You don’t have to solve everything by yourself. I’ll always be here for you. That’s what this means,” Draco said, pulling her left hand up so he could kiss the ring sitting on her fourth finger.

They hadn’t been dating long when he began looking through the Black family vaults for an engagement ring. He had settled on a large circular sapphire, held in a gold band. From a distance, the ring looked simple, but he had chosen it for the details that could only be seen up close. The sapphire was surrounded by tiny diamonds, and the band looked like it was made of intricate woven vines that also held more diamonds. He imagined Hermione in the kitchen, making breakfast in the morning, the bright light hitting her finger and spreading rainbows throughout the room. 

To him, she was the sun at the end of the storm, casting rainbows wherever she went.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise,” Draco said with finality in his voice. He pressed his lips to her temple and closed his eyes, letting sleep take over.

* * *

Hermione rolled over in the morning and noticed the sheets where Draco normally slept were cool. She sat up slowly and reached up, feeling the nest that was her hair.

Knowing that the sex from the night before would render any charms for her hair nearly useless, she padded into the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the large walk-in shower. 

Hermione’s mind raced with thoughts as the water and steam cleared the early morning fog clouding her brain. As she began lathering her hair with a potion, she couldn’t help but wonder who was behind these books. Was it someone they went to school with? Or perhaps a parent? She racked her brain trying to remember if there was anyone with the last name Rowling.

“I can hear your brain from out here,” Draco teased suddenly, causing Hermione to yelp with surprise. 

“Wanker,” she muttered under her breath. 

After she finished rinsing her hair, Hermione stepped out of the shower, leaving the water running for Draco. She narrowed her eyes, sidestepping him as he moved under the spray.

Hermione started the rigorous process of taming her long hair. In her fourth year, she had learned how to control her hair so it hung in tight curls, rather than the bushy mop it once resembled. She didn’t like to think of herself as vain, or one to care about appearances, but when standing next to someone as perfect as Draco, she was happy to look her best. 

“Did you know you take longer to shower than I do?” Hermione asked, smirking at Draco as he joined her by the mirror. 

“Yes, and look at how good my hair always looks.” He tugged on one of her damp curls. She scowled at him playfully, her eyes drifting over his half-naked body.

His towel hung low on his hips and Hermione openly admired the sharp lines of her fiance’s torso. He had continued to play recreational Quidditch on weekends and joined Harry for morning runs during the week, all his hard work paying off by creating a lean and muscular frame. 

Hermione tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, a blush heating her cheeks as she was flooded with inappropriate thoughts. 

“Do you have any plans today?” Draco asked, grabbing his hair removal potion and applying it to his cheeks and neck.

“I’d like to finish these books and start some research. I can’t help but think whoever this J.K. Rowling person is, we know them. Maybe we went to Hogwarts with them.”

They both moved out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Hermione pulled on a pair of Muggle jeans and the faded and torn Hogwarts sweater that she loved so much. Draco had tried to bin it when they graduated and she’d nearly hexed him for even thinking of it.

Draco was dressed more formally, as usual, in black pants and the dark grey button up shirt that made his eyes pop. Hermione wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him in anything even close to casual attire. Even his athletic clothing was nicer than half of her wardrobe. 

Once she was dressed, Hermione moved to the kitchen, making breakfast with a book in hand. She had long ago perfected the ability to read and complete daily chores and tasks. Draco freaked out the first time he walked into the kitchen and saw her climbing on the counter, nose in a book, to put away the dishes. He claimed that it was only because she was doing this the Muggle way when it would be simpler to levitate them into the cabinet. She was a witch, wasn’t she?

“You know what’s weird?” Draco asked, coming up behind her to grab his plate of eggs and toast.

“What’s what?” 

He sat down at their breakfast table and she noticed he had the third book of the collection in his hand, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_. He was flipping through the end of the book, clearly not actually reading the words.

“Well,” he began, flipping back to an earlier section. “Here it says that you slap me, but it was clearly a punch, I have the scar to prove it. There’s nothing afterwards about us becoming friends, though. No conversation in the hallway, no chess with Weasley.”

Hermione walked over and stood behind him, looking over his shoulder and scanning the pages. “That is strange. The first two books are almost word for word. I wonder why our relationship was cut?”

“Maybe J.K. Rowling hates handsome blonds?” Draco said, smirking up at her. 

Swatting the back of his head, she stole a bite of his toast. “Yes, I’m sure her whole motive was just to get back at all the blond men of the world.”

Draco rolled his eyes before redirecting his attention to the book in front of him. Hermione’s thoughts drifted to that day, almost nine years ago, in awe of how much had changed since then. What would her third year self think if she knew that she would grow up and get engaged to Draco Malfoy? What would third year Draco Malfoy think if he knew he was going to marry swotty Muggleborn Hermione Granger?

She laughed out loud, pressing a hand to her lips to stifle the sound. Draco eyed her skeptically.

“Care to share with the class, Granger?” he asked with a single eyebrow raised to his hairline.

“What would your third year self think if he knew he’d end up here?” 

Draco joined her laughter. “I think he’d call me barmy.”


	3. FLASHBACK: Spring 1994

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have our first flashback! 
> 
> Thank you to all of you wonderful people who have left comments, a Kudo, or shared this fic. You make my heart happy :) 
> 
> Beta love to PotionChemist. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> As always, I do not own anything. All rights to JK Rowling.

**Spring 1994**

Stupid oaf. 

Grumbling, Draco marched up the steep hill leading into the castle, Crabbe and Goyle following his lead. What was the point of that stupid class anyway if they weren’t going to have a creditable professor? 

“How is that giant still allowed to teach here? He shouldn’t even be groundskeeper! What was Dumbledore thinking?” 

The two trolls muttered an agreement but Draco ignored them, knowing their suggestions were never useful. While he didn’t know why his father was forcing him to be friends with them, he knew better than to ask for an explanation or defy him. 

He turned to look back at the stupid bloody Gryffindors that were walking with their so-called professor. He started laughing loudly when he saw the giant sobbing away like a homesick Hufflepuff. 

“Look at him blubber!” Draco yelled, drawing attention from the rest of their class. He smirked when he noticed the other Slytherins had joined him in laughter. 

The giant ran back to hut and Draco swore he felt the ground shake at the movement.  _ This is why giants shouldn’t teach _ , he thought to himself.  _ They’re a danger to us all _ .

He noticed Scarhead, Weasel, and Granger marching up to him, Granger’s eyes hardening with rage. He smirked at the sight of her and wondered what would happen if he provoked her just a bit further.

“Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!” he sneered, looking directly at the frizzy-haired witch. 

She was two steps ahead of her friends and he swore he saw magic ripple from her. Her arm swung forward, a tight fist colliding with his nose, a resounding  _ crack _ echoing from the stone walls behind him.

Draco stumbled backwards. He felt Crabbe or Goyle — he didn’t know who — reach out to support his shoulders, preventing him from falling to the cobblestone path. Not that he would ever thank them. It was the least they could do for him.

Tasting the coppery tang of blood as it seeped through his lips, he swiped his hand under his nose.

_ Of course, she bloody broke it.  _

“Don’t you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul – you evil –”

Weasel caught her arm, preventing her from hitting Draco again. Narrowing his eyes, Draco felt shocked that someone so small could cause so much physical damage to his perfect face. 

Granger fought the ginger wizard off, reaching for her wand. Draco’s body tensed and he felt his pulse rush. Stepping back, he pulled Crabbe in front of him, unsure if she would actually hex him or not.

“Let’s go,” Draco muttered as he turned to make his way through the castle.

Once they were a few corridors away from the Gryffindors, he stopped and leaned against the wall of a small alcove. He could feel his nose throbbing and was positive his eye was swelling shut. 

“Want me to fix it?” asked Goyle, pointing his wand to Draco’s face.

Draco pushed the wand away and grimaced. “I’d rather sit through another class with the oaf.” He blinked a few times, hoping not to show pain. “I’ll go to the infirmary. Don’t wait around.”

He waited until Crabbe and Goyle were out of sight and slid to the ground, his body partially hidden in the shadows, his knees tucked to his chest. This was not the worst pain he’d experienced, but it was the first time it had come from someone who barely knew him. 

“Are you alright?” He heard a quiet female voice ask him. 

Turning his head, he saw Granger crouched beside him. She was biting her lip, and her eyes were full of concern.

“Are you really asking me that? I can barely see right now because of you,” he spat. He turned his head away from her, hoping that she would leave him alone to brood in peace. 

“You should really let Madame Pomfrey heal you. It’ll scar if you don’t take care of it soon.” 

He rolled his eyes. Of  _ course _ she was trying to help him. Probably some bloody Gryffindor conscience. “I don’t need your help.”

Granger sat cross-legged in front of him, her knees brushing against his feet. She reached forward, her hand almost touching his cheek before he shoved it away. She huffed and brought her hand back to her lap. He just wanted her to leave, to let him be in pain alone. 

It was what he knew.

“If you won’t let me heal you, at least go have Madame Pomfrey do it for you. Or Professor Snape. I’m sure he’s proficient enough in healing spells.” 

He turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing and his lips turning up in a sneer. “I don’t need your help,  _ mudblood _ .” 

_ There, that should make her leave. _

He held her gaze — hoping to see her flinch or tears welling in her eyes — but she remained stoic and unfazed.

“That word doesn’t bother me anymore.”

He rolled his eyes again and turned his face away from her. Pressing his cheek to the cold stone wall and relishing in the way it soothed his face, he sighed. He shouldn’t be here, showing weakness in front of a Gryffindor. She’d likely hold it over his head for the rest of their time at Hogwarts.

“I’m not leaving until you let me fix it.” 

“Why do you care so much? Guilty conscience? Want to gloat about it to Scarhead and Weasel later?”

He heard her sigh and mutter something under her breath. “I’m sorry. I was upset and you were laughing, but that was no excuse for me to punch you.” 

Draco turned his head slowly to look at her. She was looking into her lap, frizzy curls hiding her face, fidgeting with her fingers. 

“You’re sorry?” he asked slowly. 

Sorry wasn’t a common word around Malfoy Manor. The Slytherins sure wouldn’t apologize to a Gryffindor if the roles had been reversed. 

Granger nodded her head, hair bouncing. “I am. You can tell Professor McGonagall if you’d like. I would understand.”

Draco swallowed the lump that had risen to his throat. This was new territory for him — he couldn’t remember a time when someone had given him the opportunity to turn them in. He had plenty of chances to  _ catch _ people doing things they shouldn’t, but no one had ever openly done what Granger just had.

So why was he unable to jump at the chance and run to her Head of House?

“Just fix my nose.”

Tilting her head up, she peeked at him through her hair. “Really?”

He nodded. “Do it before I change my mind.”

Granger reached out to hold his chin in place. He closed his eyes when she made contact, trying not to flinch away. She cast a quiet  _ Episkey _ and he felt his nose shift back into place. Her hand remained on his chin. She swiped her thumb under his nose, cleaning off the blood. 

When he finally opened his eyes, he noticed that her face was closer to his than before. They stared at each other and Draco felt like his heart might beat out of his chest. 

She finally released him and scurried away, sitting against the wall opposite to him. 

“Don’t you have class?” he asked quietly, still in shock from their close contact.

“I’m sure I’ll be alright. I can get the notes from someone else.”

Draco widened his eyes in shock. Was this the same swot he had gone to school with for the past three years? 

“I could always use my Time-Turner if I really wanted to.” She said it so casually he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right.

“Bullshite. You’re thirteen. No way you have a Time-Turner.” 

She laughed lightly. Draco wasn’t sure if he was going crazy, or if the sound of her laugh really warmed something inside him. 

“I’m fourteen actually, and you would never believe me, even if I did.” She stretched her arms above her head and leaned back against the wall, looking like she was going to take a nap. “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?” he snapped.

“Why are you so mean to me? Surely you don’t really believe in all this blood purity nonsense. You seem smarter than that.” 

Draco thought about it for a moment. No one had ever asked him what he believed before. He was a pureblood, and a Malfoy at that; he was raised to believe what his parents told him. They had never given him a reason to go against their beliefs, and he knew what would happen if he did.

“If I tell you it’s how I was raised, will you leave me alone?” 

“No. I’ll just work harder to show you that you’re wrong. And my blood is not  _ muddy _ . What a stupid term.” 

Since Draco wasn’t sure how to respond to that, they remained silent. No more than half an hour ago, she had punched him and now she was sitting across from him like they were friends. 

After a few minutes, Granger was the first to speak, her voice quieter than before. “Were you really raised to believe my blood was physically different?”

Internally, Draco was at war with himself. He wasn’t used to someone asking such personal questions and felt uneasy about telling her the truth. Yet there was something about how calm she was now, the soothing undertone of her voice, that made him want to bare his soul to her. 

“Not  _ physically _ ,” he admitted. “But I was raised to believe that magic was  _ mine _ . My family had earned it. It isn’t about the blood itself… it’s how the magic intertwines with you. I only have magical blood. It’s pure. Yours is…” He trailed off. The word muddy didn’t sit right, even if that was how it was described to him.

“Different?” 

He nodded his head. “Yeah. Different.”

“It’s not easy, you know, being surrounded by people who believe you aren’t deserving of something that feels so right. The day I found out I was a witch, it was like solving a puzzle. Suddenly everything made sense to me. Do you think I would feel that way if my magic wasn’t mine?”

Draco shook his head, feeling chastised for having an opinion that wasn’t even his own.  _ Maybe that’s the problem _ , he thought.  _ Maybe it’s time to think for yourself for a change. _

“I’m sorry.” 

It wasn’t until Granger’s eyes snapped open and she looked straight at him that he realized the words had slipped from his lips.

“You’re...you’re sorry?”

He took a deep, steadying breath. “I am. I’m – I’m sorry for hurting you. You’re the first Muggle-born I’ve really met, and it’s – I... You aren’t what I expected.”

The tiniest of laughs escaped from her lips. “I thought it would take a lot more than fixing your nose to get you to apologize to me. Thank you, Malfoy.”

Granger stood up, brushed off her robes, and stuck her hand out to him. He slowly placed his hand in hers and she tugged, pulling him to his feet. They were the same height and he was finally able to really look at her. Her eyes, which he had once thought were the colour of mud, had flecks of amber and gold in them, shining in the light of the torches. They were rimmed with dark circles, like she hadn’t slept in a week. 

“Does your hand not hurt?” he asked, looking down at the hand she had offered him, still grasped in his. The same one she had punched him with. 

Her lips turned up in a smirk that reflected the one he knew he used often. “Time-Turner, remember?” She dropped his hand and stepped away, a tiny smile dancing on her lips. “See you around, Malfoy.”

Draco stood in shocked silence as she retreated away from him. He could hear her footsteps echoing through the halls, each step matching his pounding heart. 

What the fuck had just happened? 

* * *

“Malfoy! You’re impossible to find!” Hermione said breathlessly as she approached Malfoy’s table in the library. “Oh, hello, Harry,” she added automatically. 

Her eyes widened and she truly noticed her dark haired friend sitting across from Malfoy, a chess board separating the two.

“Harry?” 

Malfoy snickered, his eyes never leaving the chess board. “Knight to F4. Checkmate.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, puffed out with pride.

“Oh come on! That’s the third time this week.” Harry pushed his chair back and muttered something under his breath.

It had been several weeks since their meeting in the hallway and she had been after Malfoy relentlessly, promising that they’d be great friends. She consistently found him in the library between classes and forced him to study with her, until eventually he was the one coming to find her. 

Convincing Harry and Ron to give Malfoy a second chance had proved harder than she thought. They didn’t speak to her for three days, only coming around after she threatened to stop helping them with their schoolwork altogether. 

Harry had begrudgingly agreed to study with her and Malfoy one evening, and Hermione quickly found herself a third wheel when they began talking about the latest broom model. 

They bickered often, usually about which Quidditch team was the best, but Hermione knew it was harmless. Harry’s arguments with Ron often caused her to walk away, unwilling to stay and watch the two go at it, but the arguments between Harry and Malfoy were different. Their personalities were similar, and they were more likely to debate than start yelling at one another. 

It was refreshing to be around. 

“You’ve been spending time together without me?” she asked in disbelief. 

She was aware that the two boys had begun to put their past behind them, but hadn’t known they had progressed to friendly games of chess.

“Jealous, Granger?” Malfoy teased. 

She stuck her tongue out, eyes narrowed. “I’m actually quite happy you two are friends.”

“As long as I’m still your best friend, Harry,” Ron said, appearing suddenly from the shelves behind Hermione. “Look at everything we’ve done together. I’m  _ clearly _ his best friend.”

Even after being forced into a sort-of friendship by Harry and Hermione, Ron and Malfoy were still uneasy around each other. Malfoy would say something snarky that would cause Ron’s temper to flare and it would explode from there. Much to Hermione’s annoyance, they had been kicked out of the library on multiple occasions. Malfoy was always the first to apologize, though she suspected it was only to make Ron look worse. 

“Absolutely not, Weasel! I’m Potter’s best friend!” Malfoy smirked at Ron, confidence radiating from his every pore.

_ Here we go again,  _ Hermione thought.  _ At least we’re far away from Madam Pince this time _ .

Ron’s face turned red. “Why on earth would  _ you _ be his best friend? You couldn’t even say one nice thing to him until ‘Mione went and forced us to be your friend.” He turned to look at Hermione. “Why’d you have to go and make friends with  _ him _ ? Why a Slytherin?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down in the chair next to Malfoy. “Ronald, honestly! Malfoy apologized for everything. I hardly think we need to keep up these silly house rivalries.”

“He’s still a spoiled tosser! He called you a  _ you-know-what _ !”

“And he apologized for it! Grow up, Ron! Malfoy has!”

“I don’t care! He’s not Harry’s best friend!”

Malfoy let out a long breath of air, hissing through his teeth. “Yes, please, keep talking about me as if I’m not here.”

Hermione blushed and reached over to pat his hand. “Sorry, Malfoy.”

“Potter, just tell Weasley that I’m your best friend and get this over with.” 

Harry looked down at his lap. “I can’t do that, Malfoy.”

Hermione leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the wood of the table.  _ Leave it to Harry to ruin whatever friendship he’d forged with Malfoy by admitting something like that. _

Draco glared at Harry and Ron let out a loud  _ whoop _ . “I told you!” 

“You’re not my best friend either, Ron.” 

Hermione lifted her head and watched Harry. His features shifted from uneasiness into something more confident. Catching her eye, he grinned. 

“I can’t tell either of you that you’re my best friend, because, well… Hermione’s my best friend.”

Malfoy and Ron’s jaws popped open in disbelief. She let out a loud laugh, her chest swelling with pride and love.

* * *

Hermione stood with her hands pressed to her hips. She would  _ not _ stomp her foot, absolutely not.

“Granger, are you really telling me that my murderous cousin has run off with the beast that nearly killed me?” Malfoy’s mouth was pressed into a hard line. “I’m done for!”

They were standing by the Black Lake, the early June sun beaming down on them. While Hermione hadn’t planned on telling Draco about Sirius’ escape, she felt she needed to. He had read about it in the paper that morning and was concerned that Sirius would reach out to Narcissa. 

“Oh, calm down. He’s not a murderer, Malfoy! The situation is far more complicated than that!” 

“I was attacked!” He lifted the sleeve of his shirt and pointed to a faint white line on his bicep. “That thing deserved to die! How could you save it!”

Try as she might, she couldn’t help but finally stomp her foot against the hard ground. “You didn’t listen to Hagrid, and you got hurt. That wasn’t Buckbeak’s fault!”

“Fine.” Malfoy crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. “How’d you do it then?”

She smirked at him, knowing that he’d never believe the truth. She figured she might as well avoid the lie. “I told you, I have a Time-Turner.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “I know you’re lying, Granger.” His face softened into something that reflected sadness. “I wish there was a way I could make you trust me.”

There was a pang in her heart when she saw the hurt in his eyes. He rarely let his mask of composure slip from his pointy features, and he only ever let it happen when they were alone. Contemplating whether or not she was ready to trust him with this knowledge, she chewed her lip. Their friendship had started so quickly and she was still unsure if it was just a phase he was going through. Would he come back in September and go back to being the selfish prat he had been up until ten weeks ago?

Taking a deep breath and channelling her inner Gryffindor bravery and blind trust, she reached into her robes and pulled out the long chain holding her Time-Turner. The sun reflected off the tiny hourglass, sprinkling light beams around them.

Malfoy took a step back. His eyes were wide and his mouth parted slightly. “Granger,” he whispered, “is that what I think it is?”

“You can’t tell anyone, Malfoy. Ron doesn’t even know.” She slipped the hourglass and chain back into her robes before anyone else noticed.

He continued to gape at her. It was the longest she’d seen him look so startled. She watched him nervously, unsure if he was going to faint from a lack of oxygen, positive that he hadn’t breathed. 

He finally inhaled deeply, his typical mask sliding into place. “You weren’t lying to me.” 

“I wasn’t lying to you, Malfoy.” She took a scarf from her bag and transfigured it into a blanket. They sat down beside each other, watching the waves from the lake lap against the shore. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.”

“It’s nothing. There will be more birthdays.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Tell me about it? What happened last night. I’ve never met Sirius… or any of my cousins for that matter.”

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon telling Malfoy about how she had saved Sirius Black and Buckbeak, and the role Wormtail had played in murdering Harry’s parents. It was a relief to open up to him, to have him know some of her secrets. 

“Sirius didn’t deserve what happened, Malfoy. He’s not a murderer. He deserved a fair trial but was never given one.” 

Malfoy nodded his head absently. “I can’t believe my father would hold a grudge that long.”

“Your father? What does he have to do with Sirius’ trial?”

Malfoy ran his hand through his neat hair. “I overheard my parents fighting one night when I was a child. They were an arranged marriage, and Sirius was… not in favour of their union. He tried to take her away, to give my mother a chance at finding true love. My grandfather found out about Sirius’ plan and forced her to marry Father. When Sirius was arrested after the Potters were murdered, my father must have paid the Ministry to stop the trial. Merlin knows how much he’s paid them to keep quiet about everything else.”

Hermione sat quietly, watching the sun dip below the horizon of the lake. She thought of the Sirius Black that she met in the Shrieking Shack the night before, who seemed as if he would go to the ends of the earth to seek revenge on those he loved most.  _ He tried to kill his best friend to avenge Harry’s parents. What would he do if he came across Lucius Malfoy? _

“I don’t think Sirius is going to be showing his face for a while. There is a warrant out for him, after all.” 

Malfoy nodded his head thoughtfully, seemingly relieved that a suspected mass murderer would not show up at his home over the summer. Standing up, he dusted off his robes and held out his hand to her. “Let’s go before we miss dinner.”

She slipped her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. After she transfigured the blanket back into a scarf, she tucked it into her bag. They walked back to the castle, arms brushing against each other, neither one moving to create distance.

They ate dinner at their respective tables, neither one willing to cause a stir and have the whole school talking. Even though Malfoy had begun spending more time with the Gryffindor trio, they did their best to ensure it wasn’t flaunted in public. She didn’t say it out loud, but Hermione knew it would be unwise for the Slytherin’s family to learn of his new friends. 

* * *

The door to the train compartment slid open and Granger appeared, out of breath and bushy hair flying out in every direction.

“Why on earth are you sitting all the way back here?” she asked, plopping herself down on the bench across from Draco.

He closed the book he was reading and set it beside him. Before he could open his mouth and respond, Potter and Weasley joined them. 

“Bloody hell, Malfoy. Are you hiding from us?” Weasley sat next to Granger on the bench, forcing Potter to sit next to Draco.

The last few months of school had been strange for Draco. He had started the second term without any true friends, and now he was surrounded by three Gryffindors who only annoyed him some of the time. He wasn’t sure what to make of his new friendships. Especially the one with Granger, who he realized was quickly becoming his best friend. 

Draco rolled his eyes at Weasley. “The trolley stops here first. Just making sure you get the best selection to gorge yourself on,” he said sarcastically. 

What he wouldn’t admit was that he feared getting off the train with a group of Gryffindors. They would no longer be protected by the thick walls of the castle. Their friendship, while strange at school, would be dangerous for him at home. Draco didn’t want to underestimate what his father might say, or do, if he found out that his heir had befriended The Boy Who Lived  _ and _ a Muggle-born. 

He had forced Crabbe and Goyle to sit in a compartment near him so that he could leave the train with acceptable companions. He had to keep up the ruse that they were friends. The two dolts barely noticed that Draco was only spending time with them in class and at meals. Even in the Slytherin Common Room, he did his best to separate himself from them. 

“I’ll be sure to write to you. You won’t get in trouble for that, will you?” Granger asked, kindness filling her eyes.  _ Smart witch to understand the words unspoken. _

He smirked at her. “Careful, Granger. I might think you’ll miss me.”

She scrunched her nose and shrugged. “Of course I will. We’re friends, Malfoy. When are you going to learn that friends miss each other when they’re apart?”

Though his friendship with Granger and Potter felt comfortable, he was still uneasy about exposing parts of himself to Weasley. Self-preservation, being a Slytherin, or just blatant lack of trust in the redheaded wizard had forced Draco to keep some things hidden. Like the fact that he didn’t know what true friendship felt like.

His peers in Slytherin had never shown him kindness like this before. Sure, they would protect one another in a fight, and he knew that the girls fancied him, but he never got the sense that anyone cared about him beyond a superficial level.

Before he was forced to admit all of this out loud, the trolley came by, sparing him from opening up when he wasn’t ready.

* * *

The train slowed to a stop at King’s Cross Station. Everyone had already changed out of their school uniforms and into something more acceptable for wherever it was they were going next.

Knowing that his father would expect him to look his best, Draco had changed into black robes made of a rich material, charmed to stay cool in the approaching summer heat. He ran his hands over his head, ensuring that not a hair was out of place.

“I guess this is goodbye until September?” Granger asked, walking back into the compartment.

She had changed into Muggle jeans with a light sweater. Her wild hair had been pulled back off her face, held in place by her wand. She looked relaxed, at home, in the clothing that looked so unfamiliar to Draco. When he examined her outfit, he felt more than ever that they were from two completely different worlds. 

He looked down at the floor and nodded once. “I think so. I’ll try and write. But it will be–”

Granger cut him off. “I get it. You don’t have to say anything.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “Take care of yourself.”

Weasley and Potter lingered at the compartment door. “Ready, Hermione?” Weasley asked, gesturing towards the front of the train.

She stepped back from Draco and gave him a small smile before leaving with the other two wizards. Potter and Weasley both smiled and waved at him, wishing him a good summer. He couldn’t help but notice that Potter’s face didn’t resemble that of someone wanting to go home. 

Draco waited in the compartment a bit longer, creating distance between him and the three Gryffindors. He ran his hands through his hair, messing up the slicked back style he had just fixed. Within moments, his heart picked up its pace, and he was sure he would break a sweat before even leaving the train. He wanted to retreat back to the safety of Hogwarts, to the walls that felt secure. 

There was a knock on the door and Draco quickly composed himself before the intruder could catch him in a state of vulnerability. Crabbe and Goyle stood staring at him, neither saying a word

“What took you so long? I told you to meet me here when we got to the station,” he demanded sourly. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?” He shoved his shoulder against Crabbe on his way out of the compartment.

He saw his mother first. She looked exactly as she did when he last saw her at Easter Hols. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a French twist, her posture pristine. At the sight of him, her eyes lit up and he nearly sprinted to her. 

“My dragon,” his mother said when he approached her. She brought her hand to his hair and brushed it back into place affectionately. “Not a hair out of place, remember?” 

Draco nodded, thankful that she was there to see him before his father did. He scanned the crowd, looking for the man that gave him life. 

“Where is Father?” he asked quietly, nervous.

“He’s waiting for us at home. He wanted me to send an elf, but I insisted that I be the one to meet you at the train.” She pulled him into a brief hug, and he felt the immediate comfort of his mother’s touch. “Did you make any new friends this year?”

He cast a glance to his left and saw Granger talking animatedly to a large group of redheads. There was a man and a woman standing with her, both dressed in Muggle clothing. One look at the woman’s wild hair and he was certain that it was her mother. Granger looked over at him and grinned, her hand flicking up in a small wave that only he would see. 

Draco turned back to his mother. “No, no new friends. Just Crabbe and Goyle.” 

Her lips turned up into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Your father will be pleased that you’re so focused on maintaining the close relationships you already have.” She nodded her head once, almost like she was convincing herself the words she’d said were true. “Come, my darling. Let’s go home.”

He wanted to turn and run back onto the train, to go wherever it was that the Hogwarts Express would take him. Maybe back to Hogwarts, where he could hide in the safety of the stone walls, surrounded by the memories of Quidditch matches against Potter and late nights in the library with Granger. Hell, he would even spend the summer with the Weasleys. 

Anywhere but the Manor. Anywhere that was far away from the cold man with his quick hand that was awaiting his return. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading along and commenting! Your kind words bring me so much joy :)
> 
> Beta love to PotionChemist. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> As always, I do not own anything. All rights to JK Rowling.

**April 2002**

The sound of the Floo activating pulled Hermione’s attention away from the sheet of parchment in her lap. She looked up to see a breathless Ginny standing in front of her fireplace, Quidditch gear still on.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny demanded.

Hermione looked back down at the parchment, the feather of a quill dancing along her lips. “Tomato or pumpkin?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Tomato or pumpkin? Draco is out for the day and told me I need to finalize the menu before he gets home.”

Dumbfounded, Ginny’s mouth popped open as she stumbled for a response. “Wha – you – but–” She turned around and started pacing.

“It’s not that complicated, Ginny. Just pick one.” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. “Normally I’d be able to choose but my brain has turned to mush after making so many other choices. I had really hoped Draco would just take care of everything.”

Her friend turned on her, finger outstretched, the Weasley temper flashing behind her eyes. “You sent me a Patronus and told me it was an  _ emergency _ . I left practice — the day before one of our biggest games of the season — so that you could ask which type of soup I prefer?”

“You’re my maid of honour, and Draco isn’t home and Harry is at work—”

“I was at work!” Ginny stormed over and flicked Hermione’s head. “Quidditch is my  _ job _ ! And I might lose my spot in tomorrow’s game because of you!”

Trying to protect herself, Hermione grabbed the stack of wedding planning parchments and held them up like a shield. She stuck out her foot and tried to push Ginny away. 

“Hermione, I swear if you don’t stop kicking me, I’ll Bat-Bogey you!”

“Please don’t do that. I rather like looking at my soon-to-be wife without thinking of giant bats made of mucus coming out of her nose.” 

Hermione and Ginny froze. They looked to the fireplace and saw Draco standing there with a smirk on his face. Hermione couldn’t recall hearing the Floo activate again and briefly wondered how long he had been watching them.

“Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?” He smirked at the pair, his eyes gleaming playfully. “You both look ridiculous.” 

Hermione was tucked into a ball against the cushions, one leg stuck out in mid-jab. Ginny had pulled her wand out and was ready to cast a spell. 

“Great! Your husband-to-be is here. He can take over this insanity.” Ginny sidestepped Draco, heading for the Floo. She turned around and glared at Hermione. “No more calling me in the middle of the day. I’m serious. Even if you say you’re dying, I’m not coming until after five.”

The flames roared to life and Ginny was swept away, leaving behind only a bit of soot. Hermione untucked herself and sat up straight, tugging on the bottom of her jumper to straighten it.

“Hello, love. How was work?” she asked politely, as if nothing had happened.

Draco shook his head and sat down next to her on the couch, taking the stack of parchment from her hands and moving it to the side table. “Work was work. How was your day?”

“It was alright. Neville sent over a few pictures of the flowers he grew for us. They’re beautiful. I think I have the seating plan all done as well.” 

“And are you going to tell me why Ginny was threatening to hex you when I walked in?”

Hermione looked at her lap sheepishly. “I may have sent her a Patronus in the middle of her practice… and it might have been about soup.”

With a small chuckle, Draco pulled her tight to his side and placed a kiss on her temple. “Granger, there’s no need to panic over the small things. I know that  _ we _ need to finalize the menu tonight, but it could have waited until after I was home.”

“I went to the Burrow today. To ask Arthur if he’d walk me down the aisle. He said yes, of course.” Hermione toyed with the edge of Draco’s old Slytherin jumper she had taken to wearing. “It just made me think about everyone that won’t be there next week. My parents, your parents… everyone else…” 

Draco moved off the couch so he was kneeling in front of her. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get their memories back. We tried everything we could, brought in the best mind-healers in the world, and no one could untangle your spells. That’s how powerful you are, Granger. The best in the world still aren’t good enough.” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and leaned in to kiss her forehead softly. “If they could be here, you know they would be.”

Hermione chewed her lip, memories resurfacing from the day she found out she wouldn't be able to return her parents’ memories. Draco had held her close that night, constantly reassuring her that everything was going to be okay, that her parents were happy and alive, even if they didn’t know who she was. 

When Draco proposed, he promised her a small wedding, nothing like the weddings of Malfoys past. There would be no planners, no decorators, no journalists. 

“What’s left to decide?” he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

“Just finalizing food for Molly. She asked me to send the menu over this evening so she can get started.” Hermione handed the proposed menu to Draco. 

After scanning it quickly, he grabbed the quill from the table and started making changes to what was written. When he was done, he rolled the parchment up and tied it with a piece of ribbon. “There. All done.” 

“Don’t I get a final say?” Hermione demanded.

Draco stood and walked to the window to call over one of their owls. “Tomato soup, baked chicken, roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, and for dessert, that triple chocolate cake of Molly’s you love so much.”

“ _ You _ love that cake so much.” 

“Yes, and you love me, so you’ll let me have it.” 

* * *

Draco straightened his bowtie and assessed his appearance in the mirror. He could feel the palms of his hands becoming sweaty with nerves and thanked Salazar they decided on a Spring wedding. 

At the sound of a cough, Draco turned and saw Harry standing in the doorway of the guest room of 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Almost ready?” Harry asked. He was dressed in a set of black robes that Draco had forced him to get custom made. “Hermione doesn’t want us to accidentally run into her on our way out of the Floo.” 

“Yeah, just about.” He walked over to the nightstand and grabbed his pocket watch and the ring box. He tossed the box to Harry, confident that his Seeker reflexes would prevent him from dropping it. “That’s your responsibility now, best man. I’m trusting you not to lose it.”

Harry chuckled and stowed the box inside of his robes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Malfoy.”

“I remember how you weren’t able to find a single thing the day of your own wedding and then you had to call Granger to come and help calm you down.” 

“You know, in about an hour, you won’t be able to call her Granger anymore. You’ll have to actually use her first name.” 

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed out an exacerbated breath. “I’ve been calling her Granger since I was eleven. I’m not about to start calling her something else just because we’re married.”

“You’ve been calling me variations of names for years, yet you have no problem calling me Harry.”

“Harry is less of a mouthful than Hermione. Gods, what were her parents thinking?”

Harry laughed and stepped aside, allowing Draco to leave the room ahead of him. The two made their way to the Floo in the sitting room, Harry moving forward first. 

“I’ll go back sure the coast is clear. Give me twenty seconds, then come through.” He grabbed a pinch of Floo powder. “Malfoy-Granger Cottage!”

Green flames burst to life and Harry was sucked away. Draco paced back and forth along the length of the sitting room.

He could feel nerves building inside him, but he wasn’t sure why. Proposing to Granger had been the easiest decision he’d ever made. He had known for years that she was the person he was going to marry, and after everything they had been through, he felt they deserved this happily ever after. 

Glancing at the pocket watch Granger had given him as an early wedding present, he noticed that the twenty seconds Harry requested had come and gone while he was pacing. Harry was probably on the other side of the Floo thinking the groom had fled the scene and trying not to panic.

Draco took a pinch of Floo powder and called out his own address. The rushing warmth of Floo travel took him in an instant and deposited him in the sitting room of his home. He gave his robes a quick check, pleased that he had been able to convince Hermione that they needed to upgrade to the soot-free fireplace. 

“There you are! I swear, Harry was going to send out a search party if you didn’t hurry up.” Ginny grabbed Draco by the elbow and pulled him out of the room, leading him towards the back of the house where Harry stood. She took the lapel of his robes between her fingers and placed a boutonniere made of small pieces of greenery and small ivory flowers against it, holding it in place with a sticking charm. 

After pinning one to Harry as well, she started running through the list of things the best man needed to remember.

“And you,” she said, stepping so that she was directly in front of Draco. “You just need to say ‘I do’. Don’t go off script, don’t profess your love to her in great words of poetry that will make her cry and ruin all our hard work. Magic can only help mascara so much. Save that for the honeymoon. Got it?”

Draco chuckled but nodded his head after Ginny swatted his arm with the back of her hand. “Got it. Granger has already given me the same speech.”

With a hard push from Ginny, Draco stepped off the back steps and made his way down the gravel path towards the back of the property. He could hear the river quietly gurgling in the background and the faint sound of birds chirping echoed through the surrounding trees.

The sound of voices grew louder as the trees thinned out and he was able to see a small group of witches and wizards sitting in front of an arch made of twisting branches and vines. There were ivory flowers and greenery, similar to that of his boutonniere, woven around the arch. 

Minister Shacklebolt stood at the front of the group, a pleasant smile on his face as Draco and Harry approached. He shook Harry’s hand first, then clasped Draco’s in a firm grip. “Mister Malfoy, thank you again for asking me to officiate.”

“Thank you for coming, Minister. I know how much this means to my fiancée.” Draco ran his hands along his robes, nerves building up again. 

He scanned the small group in front of him, noting the way everyone had mingled together. There were Slytherins and Gryffindors sitting next to each other, and no one seemed like they were ready to pull out their wands. Purebloods and Muggle-borns. Pansy was sitting with Luna, clearly confused and turned off by whatever Luna was telling her. Neville and Blaise were in what looked like a heated, but friendly, discussion. 

It was like he’d imagined it growing up. Almost.

“She’s proud of you, you know,” Harry said quietly. “Your mum. I know she is.”

Draco swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “I know she is. She loved Hermione.”

Harry nudged his side and snickered. “You called her Hermione.”

Before Draco could make a snarky comment in return, Molly quickly walked around the group and took a seat next to Lavender. She gave Draco a soft smile and placed her hand to her heart. 

Soft music began to play, signalling Granger’s arrival. Ginny walked into the clearing first, a kind smile on her face.

“She’s almost here, Malfoy. And she’s perfect.” 

Shifting his focus back to where Granger would be entering the clearing, he took a deep breath and stood up straight. His heart was racing, and the nerves he thought he had calmed earlier picked back up. 

Seconds felt like hours as he waited for her. 

And then he saw her, and time stopped altogether. Ginny was right — she was perfect.

* * *

“You look beautiful, Hermione,” Arthur said, his hand placed gently on her arm. 

She looked up at him, thankful for the secondary father figure in her life. No one could ever replace her own father, but Arthur had come close. A small tear gathered in the corner of her eye and she moved her hand to dab it away before it spilled over.

Ginny squeezed Hermione’s shoulder. “He’s here, and he doesn’t look like a complete prat. Now, no crying. I love you.”

The silky green dress Ginny had picked out for herself swirled when she spun back around to face the altar. She started her walk down the path towards the clearing. From where Hermione was tucked away, she could just see the edges of the group, but was still safe from Draco’s prying eyes. 

Her eyes drifted down to her own cream-coloured dress. Ginny had dragged her through various bridal shops in London and Paris, both Muggle and Wizarding, before they found the right dress. It was form-fitting and made of lace that flared out loosely at her thighs, and it had sleeves that went to her wrists. The back of the dress was open, dipping almost uncomfortably low, but she knew that Draco would go mad when he saw her in it.

The music shifted, signalling Hermione’s cue to begin walking. With Arthur’s steady arm as a reminder not to sprint to Draco, they began their torturous walk towards the aisle.

“This is dreadfully slow. Why did we pick this song?” she complained. 

Arthur grinned at her. “I felt the same when I was waiting for Molly. When I saw her walk down that aisle, time stopped. She was the most stunning woman I’d ever seen. I was thankful for those few extra moments to admire her, feeling like it was just the two of us.”

They broke through the edge of the clearing and she was finally able to see him. Even with the knowledge that she was holding on to Arthur’s arm and a group of people separating them, it felt as if the entire world melted away and left just two people. Her and Draco.

His blond hair shone even in the dull grey light that this time of year provided. He pressed his lips together and she could see his throat bobbing as he swallowed his emotions. Her own breath hitched when she took in his suit, something he had insisted she not see until the wedding. _ “If you get to keep the dress a secret, why can’t my robes be one too?” he had asked, much to her dismay. _

But it had been worth the wait. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the altar. Minister Shacklebolt was saying words, and Arthur was responding, but it was all muffled. Draco stepped forward and took her hand in his, lifting it to place a small kiss where her wedding band would soon be. 

She passed her bouquet to Ginny and moved to stand properly between the altar and her group of friends. Her eyes met Draco’s, drinking in his every feature, thanking the powers that be that she would finally be lucky enough to call him her husband.

“We are gathered here today to witness the binding of two people in eternal matrimony,” said Minister Shacklebolt. “Marriage is not just the promise to love one another. It is the joining of two unique magics, sharing who and what you are at your core. Love is not about finding a missing half, but rather about finding the person whose heart and soul compliments your own. Today, we witness the marriage of two people who have experienced love and loss, who know that when you find the right person, you will fight through anything to be by their side.”

Hermione lifted a hand and brushed away a tear that slipped down her cheek. She thought of all they had been through together, knowing that she would face it all again if it would bring her to this exact moment. 

“Please join hands,” the Minister instructed.

Hermione moved her left hand so that it was wrapped around his left wrist, his actions mirroring hers. 

Minister Shacklebolt placed his wand against their joined wrists. “Hermione Jean Granger, do you come today, of free will, to marry Draco Lucius Malfoy? Do you vow to stand by his side in times of love and war, to lift him up when he is down, and to support him in times of need? Do you promise to bind your magic with his, forever joining together as one, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

A soft gold light spread down her arm and wound itself around their hands. She could feel its warmth pulsing and tingling, moving through their fingers. 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, do you come today, of free will, to marry Hermione Jean Granger? Do you vow to stand by her side in times of love and war, to lift her up when she is down, and to support her in times of need? Do you promise to bind your magic with hers, forever joining together as one, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Silver light moved down his arm, swirling with the gold light already waiting. The pulsing sensation picked up as the two lights danced together, merging and melding into one. Hermione felt Draco grip her wrist tighter. She lifted her eyes to his, watching the lights as they were reflected back to her. 

The lights grew brighter until it was like looking directly into the sun. A burst of white magic exploded from their hands, encompassing them fully, blowing Hermione’s hair back from her face. 

As the magic around them settled, Minister Shacklebolt lifted his wand, pulling some of the white light with it. He brought the light over the piece of parchment to his left and tapped his wand against it, the light seeping into the paper. 

“It is with great pleasure that I now pronounce you husband and wife. Draco, you may kiss your bride.”

Using the hand still clasped around her wrist, Draco tugged her forward so her body was flush against his. He brought his right hand up to her face, sliding it along the back of her neck. She pressed up on her toes to close the distance between them.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

His lips moved against hers, deepening the kiss until her head spun. Their joined hands separated and he moved his to her lower back, groaning when he felt her bare skin. She melted into him, feeling the residual magic pulse between them, her hands gripping the side of his torso for support.

Draco pulled back slightly, slowing their passionate kiss until it was just soft pecks. His hands moved around her until they rested on either side of her face. With one last kiss, she pulled back so she could look at him, completely out of breath and in love.

The faint sounds of cheering grew louder until they thundered in her ears. For the first time since she saw Draco, Hermione remembered that they were surrounded by their loved ones. Everyone was standing, loud shouts coming from the Weasleys sitting at the front. Even Pansy, who she wasn’t sure would ever truly like her, seemed to be wiping away tears. 

Ginny handed Hermione her bouquet of flowers and nodded her head towards the aisle, reminding Hermione that they had to move. Draco offered her his arm, like the gentleman he was, and together they made their way down the path towards their home, where the reception was being held.

As soon as they were free of the clearing, Draco turned and plucked her from the ground, his arms supporting her knees and shoulders.

“I love you, husband.” She placed a kiss against his neck and felt him growl.

“Careful, Mrs. Malfoy. We still have to get through the reception.” 

* * *

During the ceremony, a white tent had been set up, covering small round tables that surrounded a dancefloor, fairy lights twinkling throughout. There were ivory flowers and greenery twisting around the posts of the tent and along the ceiling. It was unlike anything Hermione had ever seen before, like something straight out of a fairytale. 

Draco set her down at the edge of the tent, his hand resting against the bare skin of her lower back, as guests came over to congratulate them and comment on how beautiful the ceremony was. 

When all of the guests had entered the tent, Draco led Hermione to the dancefloor. Music filled the tent and he bowed to her, his hand outstretched. She placed hers in his and lifted her other hand to rest of his shoulder. Years of dating Draco and being subjected to various galas and parties had paid off just for this moment. There was no fear of tripping over her feet or forgetting which way she was supposed to step first. 

“I can’t believe we’re married,” Hermione mused as Draco led them around the dancefloor. 

He hummed happily, his chest vibrating with contentment. “I can. As soon as we got through Hogwarts, I knew marrying you was in my future.”

She looked up at him, drinking in his silver eyes filled with love. “Just after Hogwarts? Never before? I seem to remember a time in the Room of Requirement, fifth year…” 

“Shh,” he whispered, silencing her with a gentle kiss. “We had a lot going on after that. I just wanted to know we’d make it out alive and together.”

Draco spun her around and dipped her low, one hand on her back, the other still holding her hand. She moved her free hand around his neck and pulled his face close, meeting his lips in a passionate kiss. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mister and Missus Malfoy,” Harry interrupted, the music settling. 

Pulling her to her feet, Draco brought her in close, his arms wrapping around her waist. “Thank you for the dance, wife.”

“It was my pleasure, husband,” Hermione replied with a grin. She took his hand and led him off the dancefloor to their table. 

Ginny handed each of them a champagne glass and raised her own in a toast. Sounds of glasses clinking rang through the tent and Hermione brought hers to Draco’s. Their glasses tapped edges and he bent down to give her a gentle kiss. 

Once they were seated, dinner was served, and Hermione noted the look on Ginny’s face when the soup was served with a grin. 

“Should have just given her a bloody answer,” Ginny muttered.

“You don’t like the soup?” Draco smirked. 

“Oh, no, it’s lovely. I would never make a big deal over something as silly as soup.” Ginny shot a glare at Hermione, who just laughed louder in response.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly until it was time for speeches. Arthur and Molly spoke for both Hermione and Draco, knowing that neither of them were able to have their parents present, and Ginny’s speech made Hermione cry more than she expected to.

“And now, the best man, the boy who lived and died and lived again, Gryffindor’s third best Quidditch captain — after Wood and me, of course — Britain's youngest head Auror, the man who took six years to realize a girl fancied him, someone who needs no introductions… Harry,” Ginny said as she finished her speech and sat down. 

Harry rolled his eyes and stood, holding a glass of wine in his hand. Unlike Ginny, he wasn’t carrying any sort of parchment or cards to indicate that he had prepared something.

“Life is like a box of Bertie Botts beans. You never know what you’re going to get,” he began. Hermione’s eyes went wide as she recognized his opening line. She looked around the tent and noticed a few others trying to hide their laughter.

She leaned over and whispered to Ginny. “How much has he had to drink?”

“Only one glass before this. He’s not drunk,” Ginny replied with a smile. “Though, I have no idea where he’s going with this.”

“Some days, you get a cinnamon bean, full of love and heated passion. Others, it’s the earthy taste of grass, promising growth and life. You may have days that are lemon sorbet, while others resemble something closer to earwax. My friendship with Hermione has been nothing short of exciting. I think in the past eleven years of our friendship we’ve gone through several boxes of Bertie Botts — both literally and figuratively — and she’s been by my side through every flavour. I knew early on that Hermione was like my sister, which meant that some other wizard would come and sweep her off her feet one day. My biggest wish was that he gave her days of apple and blueberry, and protected her on days of rotten eggs and earwax.

“When Draco became a friend of ours in Hogwarts, I may not have realized that there was romance afoot — I was fighting a dark wizard, after all — but I knew that he would always be there for us, for Hermione. Hermione doesn’t need saving, but I’m happy to know that on the days where she pulls out an earwax, Draco will be there by her side through it all. There is no one that I would trust with Hermione’s heart more than him. May you have a life full of cinnamon, lemon sorbet, and marshmallows. To Draco and Hermione.”

Glasses clinked around them as Draco stood and pulled Harry into a hug, whispering something in his ear. Hermione walked around the table to hug Harry as well.

“Thank you, Harry. That was… well, I wasn’t sure where you were going with it in the beginning, but I loved it. I shouldn’t have expected anything less.” 

Once the speeches had ended, the fairy lights dimmed slightly and the music grew louder and more upbeat. Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him onto the dancefloor where other couples had already begun to dance. 

“Did you hear that? Harry wished us days of passion and growth. You think he’s hinting for a niece or nephew?” Draco whispered in her ear. His fingers slid along her lower back, sending shivers up her spine. “What do you say we Apparate out of here and start working on that passion?” 

Hermione toyed with the idea of staying later to dance and celebrate with her friends, but Draco’s hand slid lower to cup her arse. He kissed behind her ear, his warm breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck. Closing her eyes and leaning into him, she rested her head against his shoulder, loving the way his kisses caused butterflies to burst to life in her belly. 

She turned and faced him, her arms wrapping around his neck, their noses almost touching. “I think Molly would be hurt if we didn’t at least say goodbye. Five minutes and then you can take me wherever our honeymoon is.”

Five minutes of goodbyes turned into twenty. She could tell Draco’s patience was wearing thin when he snapped at Neville for explaining how he chose the flowers and greenery. 

“I’m sorry, Neville. It’s been a long day. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done. I’ll owl you as soon as we get back.” Hermione gave Neville a quick hug before pulling Draco out of the tent. 

They ran up the steps to their house, laughing like they were back in Hogwarts and sneaking around. Draco carried her bridal style through the door and to their bedroom. He plopped her down on the bed and tugged off his robes, leaving him in just a dress shirt and trousers. 

Hermione propped herself up on her elbows, staring at him in disbelief. “Here? We’re shagging for the first time as a married couple, here in our bedroom, while all our friends and family drink and dance right outside our window?” 

He moved forward on the bed so that his body was hovering over hers. “Of course not. I just didn’t want to travel in those robes. They’ll be too warm for where we’re going.” She could feel his hard cock pressing against her thigh and arched her body towards his in response. “I can’t wait to get you out of this dress.” 

Groaning, she tried to hook her leg around his waist and pull him closer, but the tightness of her dress prevented her from doing so. “Draco, please…”

His body shifted off hers and he stood by the bed, bringing her up with him. He summoned the bags he had packed from the closet and handed one to her. She stepped into his embrace, feeling the tug of the Portkey as he whisked her off to an unknown location.

When the ground settled again, Hermione caught the smell of sea water. A warm breeze tickled her exposed skin, and she could feel small grains of sand against her toes. 

Their lips crashed together again, fire igniting inside her. “I need you, I need you,” she murmured against his lips.

“As you wish, Mrs. Malfoy.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who waited patiently for this chapter! I took some time off of posting so I could get ahead in chapters and be able to update more frequently. I'm hoping for weekly/bi-weekly postings from here on out!
> 
> A huge shout out to my beta, PotionChemist, and my alpha, TriDogMom, for putting up with all my messages and brainstorming. You are both incredible! They deserve ALL the love! (Seriously, they've got amazing fics, go check them out)

**April 2002**

The quiet crash of waves on the sand and the smell of the Mediterranean Sea wafted through the open windows, gently pulling Draco from his slumber. He stretched out, searching for his wife on her side of the bed. Opening his eyes slowly, he found her sitting up, her head propped against the pillows, a newspaper open in front of her.

“Good morning, love,” Hermione said. She leaned over to kiss the top of his head, her hand pushing his hair back off his face. 

Yawning, he shifted so his head was resting on her stomach. “Good morning, wife. What are the plans for today? Besides staying in bed all day?” He brushed his fingers down her side to cup her arse. 

She let out a soft laugh, her stomach rising with the movement. Folding the newspaper and setting it on her nightstand, she settled into the bed to face him, her leg draped over his hip. 

“I was thinking,” she started, a nervous look settling onto her features. “We should go back to England early.”

“Why would we do that when we have a private island here with no friends or work to bother us?” He tugged on her waist, pulling her body flush against his. Her eyes fluttered closed when she felt his stirring erection pressed against her core. 

Draco brought his mouth to hers, coaxing a moan from her lips. Her hips moved slightly, grinding against him and awakening him fully. After flipping her onto her back, he placed soft kisses on her neck, moving down her chest. Her nipples hardened at his touch and were clearly visible through her silk nightgown. 

“Draco,” she sighed, her back arching. 

“Yes, dear?” His hand moved under the silk, finding her to be knickerless and wanting. “Did you still want to cut our time here short?” 

He slipped a single digit into her heat, his tongue sucking a silk-covered nipple into his mouth. Her hands threaded into his hair, holding him in place as her chest rose and fell with her quick breaths. She thrust her pelvis against his hand, her swollen clit finding purchase on his palm. Bringing his thumb to her sensitive bud, he lifted his eyes to watch her face glow with ecstasy and slid a second finger into her cunt.

“Yes, yes,” she moaned. Her hands left his head, one gripping the sheets beside him and the other grabbing hold of the pillow. 

Hoping to bring her to climax at least twice before breakfast, he pumped his fingers inside her faster. She ground her hips against his hand and her breathing shortened, her exhales nearly whimpers. 

Her body shook as she came, her cunt tightening around his fingers. Draco watched as she slowly released the sheets and pillow from her tight grasp, relaxing into the mattress. He shifted his body, removing his fingers from her warm centre and rising to hover over her. 

Hermione lifted her shaky hands, placing them on either side of his face, gazing at him longingly. Her hair was fanned out over the pillows, droplets of sweat beading on her forehead. His cock stirred again as she brought his face to hers. When he shifted his hips, his erection rubbed through her wet slit.

“J.K. Rowling is going to be in London tomorrow.”

Draco groaned and rolled to the side. “I haven’t heard that name in a while.” 

“I know. She was quiet for a while after the last book release. People think she’s tucked away somewhere writing the next book. There are lots of theories out there about what she’s going to do with the story now that Voldemort has returned.”

Any hope of a shag this morning was gone with his erection. “Can we please not discuss Voldemort while we’re naked in bed? On the list of things I want to do with you in bed, that doesn’t even make the top 100.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a quiet laugh. “Rowling is doing a signing at one of the bookshops in London. I want to go and meet her. Maybe get some answers to all of this.”

“But we still have three more days here,” Draco pouted. He wanted to soak up more of their sunny honeymoon before going back to the dreary British weather and work. Not to mention the privacy their villa gave them meant he could shag her wherever they wanted without worrying about one of the Potters walking in on them.

“This is important, Draco. Besides, I’m sure Harry misses playing Quidditch with you.”

“No Potter talk either. He’s not allowed anywhere close to our bed.” He groaned again, shuddering at the thought. 

Hermione looked at him with expectant eyes. Clearly, she wasn’t going to relent on this. 

“Alright. Back to London. You owe me, witch.” 

She leaned over and kissed him deeply, the tip of her tongue just brushing against his. “I’m sure that can be arranged.” 

Ten days of perfection with his new wife cut short by a stranger. He really hoped to put this J.K. Rowling mystery could be put to rest so he would never have to hear her name in bed again.

* * *

Though it was her request to return early, Hermione’s mood soured the moment her feet hit the ground in England. The sun was hidden by a thick layer of clouds, the sea replaced by rolling hills and clusters of trees. 

“Glad to be back?” Draco asked, his voice only slightly bitter. 

She sighed. “No, but I’m happy to be going to the book signing today. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’ll just complain about the long lines. Besides, if you’re going to a bookshop, you’ll barely notice my absence.” He pulled her against his side and placed a kiss to the top of her head. 

They made their way to the master suite so Hermione could change into something more appropriate for the weather. After pulling on a light grey jumper and jeans, she tied her hair back into a single plait. She knew it would take more than a few charms to get control over her sea-washed curls. 

After saying goodbye to Draco and taking the Floo to the Leaky, she made her way into Muggle London to the Tube. The bookshop was on the other side of London and she was concerned that if someone attending the signing knew that wizards existed, they may be on the lookout for someone Apparating. 

“Do you think she’ll talk about the new book?”

“I wonder how Harry is going to deal with Cedric’s death.”

“Harry _has_ to go live with Sirius now! He deserves that! They both do!”

All around her, people were chattering about the series. Hermione’s attention was pulled in every direction, hearing names she knew well and people speculating about events that had already happened. 

“Do you think Harry will date Cho? Or, what if Hermione and Harry get together?”

With a snort of laughter, she imagined Draco’s reaction if he had been there to hear that comment. It was better he had stayed home — he would surely throw a fit.

The bookshop was larger than Hermione expected with staircases twisting up the sides and leading to a second level. In the middle of the first floor, a table and chairs sat on a small platform. People had begun to fill the chairs in front of the stage and she noticed that some of the patrons were wearing cloaks and decorated shirts. 

She grabbed a chair in the middle of the crowd, squeezing herself next to a young girl — no older than ten — wearing a Gryffindor tie and carrying a wand that looked eerily similar to the one she had stashed in her bag. The little girl’s hair was curling out in every direction, reminding Hermione of her own hair when she was about to start Hogwarts.

It was unnerving to see a Muggle child dressed so much like a younger version of herself. 

“Hello,” the girl said happily when she realised Hermione had noticed her. “Are you a Gryffindor as well?”

“I sure am. That’s a very pretty wand. Did you pick it out yourself?” 

The little girl grinned and handed the wand to Hermione. “My mum bought it for me for my birthday this year. It’s like Hermione Granger’s and I want to be like Hermione Granger when I grow up.”

Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat, emotions building inside her. She took the piece of wood gingerly, examining the detail. The carvings were different and it didn’t hold the same weight, but the fake wand could pass as authentic to the untrained eye, the key difference being the lack of magic humming through her fingers when she touched it. 

“It’s very beautiful.” Hermione handed the wand back to the girl. “I think if you really want to, you can grow up to be whoever you want.”

The girl beamed before turning back to face the front stage, little body bouncing on the edge of her seat, just as a middle-aged man walked out on the stage. He tapped the microphone a few times to get the crowd’s attention.

“Welcome everyone!” he said loudly, the crowd clapping in response. “I’m very honoured today to introduce our special guest for this month’s book club. She’s written one of the world’s best-selling children’s novels and brought the magical world of Harry Potter into our homes. Here to talk about her book series and answer some of your burning questions, J. K. Rowling!” 

The crowd erupted into deafening cheers and hollers, and a blonde woman in her late-thirties stepped onto the stage. She was wearing a simple green dress that went to her knees and a light brown cardigan. Her straight hair ended just below her collarbones. She was pretty, but there was nothing exceptional about her appearance.

Hermione’s mind whirled, the gears turning on overdrive, scanning all the people she knew from the wizarding world. The woman was much older than her and would have graduated by that time. Would Bill or Charlie know this woman? Did she have younger siblings?

“Hello everyone,” Rowling said, taking a seat in one of the chairs on the stage. The host settled in next to her, each taking a moment to adjust the microphones. 

“Ms. Rowling, welcome to our book club! It’s an absolute honour to have you here today.” 

“Thank you, I’m so pleased to finally be able to come to one of your events. I used to come to these as a patron when I was younger.”

The host launched into his questions, checking the cue cards in front of him. Hermione listened carefully, taking mental notes so she could go home and research her findings. Until this moment, she had been unable to learn anything substantial about the woman before her. 

“It was a dark time in my life when I wrote the first book. I was trying to care for my child, and we were living paycheck to paycheck. I created the world of _Harry Potter_ to help escape that. I hope that I can help others escape to that world as well,” Rowling said, a warm smile on her face. 

_Created it, my arse_ , thought Hermione sourly. _There is no way this woman just created something out of thin air with such accuracy_.

“We’ve heard you say before that you’ve written the character of Hermione Granger to be a representation of yourself. Can you expand on this a bit more?” the host asked. 

Hermione sat up a bit straighter, eager to hear what exactly this woman thought they had in common. 

“I did!” Rowling said with a chuckle. “I grew up loving books. I would devour any story I could get my hands on and still go searching for more. When I was younger, still in primary school, I was picked on quite a bit by my classmates for being swotty. They called me a know-it-all. Hermione is very much like me, especially when you first see her begin at Hogwarts. She has a hard time making friends. The characters of Harry and Ron really help ground her and show her that there is more to life than just reading and learning.” 

“And did you also deal with bullies like Draco Malfoy?”

Rowling’s expression sobered. “Draco Malfoy is exactly like the people I knew growing up. He’s entitled, rude, ungrateful, and mean. I think we all have a Draco Malfoy in our own lives.”

“There must be some redeeming qualities to Draco though, right?” prodded the host, clearly fishing for something. 

Rowling shook her head, her mouth set in a line. “None. There can be nothing redeeming about someone who calls their classmates by racial slurs and judges them based on something they cannot control.”

Hermione’s blood boiled. She wanted to jump up and yell, to scream at this horrid woman that Draco Malfoy was _not_ a bully. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep quiet, she slouched in her chair, hoping that this “author” would be smart enough to stop talking before someone hexed her. 

“Are there any spoilers you can give us for the next book? Has Voldemort really returned?”

The crowd was giddy, each one of them looking hungry for secrets and answers to their burning questions. “Well, I can tell you that the events we saw in _The Goblet of Fire_ are far from over.” 

“Wonderful! Just wonderful!” The host clapped his hands together, the crowd joining him in a round of applause. Hermione tapped her hands against each other politely, seething internally. “We have some time for some questions from the crowd before we move to the book signing portion of our event. If you have a question, please come to the mic in the middle and state your name and your question.”

People moved around, stepping over each other to line up in front of the mic, including the young girl that had been sitting beside her. Hermione contemplated joining them but knew that any words that came out of her mouth would be unfit for an audience of children.

 _Thank Merlin Draco stayed home_.

Question after question was asked, most of them asking about the inspiration behind this spell or that person. A few people tried to probe for more hints, all of them shut down with a sweet smile from Rowling. 

Finally, Hermione’s new friend stepped up to the mic. Someone helped adjust the height to accompany her short frame. 

“Hi, I’m Sarah. I’m a huge fan of the books, but I think you’re wrong about Draco Malfoy.” 

Hermione’s eyes opened wide, shocked. There was some rumbling throughout the crowd, most people looking to Sarah as if she had said something taboo. Rowling looked at the child curiously. 

Sarah stood up taller, clearly trying to think past the whispers around her. “He’s just a child. His own father is vile and has clearly brainwashed him to believe things to be one way. Why can’t Draco grow up to look past this and learn?”

Rowling’s face shifted into something of displeasure. “There is more about Draco that you will learn in the next book. I think you’ll see that he cannot be redeemed.”

She leaned over to the host and whispered something in his ear. The host looked to her and nodded his head in understanding.

“That will be all for the question portion of our event. Ms. Rowling will be sticking around for the next twenty minutes to sign your books. One book per person, and unfortunately there will be no time for individual questions or photos.”

Hermione joined the line of people waiting to have their books signed. Sarah came up and stood next to her, eyes wide and nervous. 

“She hates me,” Sarah whispered, horrified. “I shouldn’t have said that. I should have just asked her what Hermione’s favourite book is. I want to read more about Hogwarts.”

Heart aching for the small girl, Hermione ducked down so she was looking into Sarah’s eyes. “I think Hermione’s favourite book would be _Hogwarts: A History_. You were very brave for asking that question. I think Gryffindor is exactly the house you belong in.”

Sarah’s face split open into a wide grin and nodded her head enthusiastically. “Thank you. What book are you going to have her sign? I brought _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_.”

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out her book. “ _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_. It’s my favourite so far. Hermione was a very strong… character that year.” 

The line moved and Sarah was next. She waved back to Hermione and stepped up to have her book signed. Rowling smiled politely at the girl, clearly not showing any ill will for her earlier question. 

“Next,” called the host, motioning for Hermione to step forward.

“Hello! Who should I make this out to?” asked Rowling, taking the book from Hermione’s hands and opening the front cover. 

“Monica Wilkins, please.”

Rowling’s pen hovered over the pages momentarily before signing the book. She closed the front page and handed it back to Hermione.

“Thank you, Ms. Rowling.” Hermione turned to leave and paused. “You’re wrong, by the way.”

“Pardon me?” 

“All of it. Draco Malfoy, mostly. People like him can be redeemed. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

With a quick turn on her heel, Hermione stormed out of the bookshop and around the corner to an empty alley. She barely looked around to see if anyone was watching before Apparating home, landing in her backyard.

* * *

Hermione had been gone for almost three hours by the time Draco heard the quiet _crack_ of Apparition coming from the back of the house. There was the faint sound of a door slamming followed by footsteps that grew louder and angrier the closer they got to him. 

Standing from the chair in his study, he removed his reading glasses and moved to the door. He peered into the hall just in time to see his wife come storming up the stairs. 

“How was it? Did you buy half the store?” he asked knowing very well that something had gone wrong.

Magic radiated from the tips of her hair, the air shimmering around her as she passed.

“Vile, horrid, wretched, lying beast,” she muttered, ignoring him completely. She continued down the hall, Draco following quickly behind her.

“What happened?” he asked, grabbing her by the elbow and turning her around to face him. 

Hermione’s breathing was ragged, magic cracking in the air between them. “I hate her. I hate her more than Umbridge.”

The door to the bedroom slammed shut and Draco leaned his forehead against the door frame, contemplating whether or not to follow her. The lock clicked audibly in the quiet hall and he knew it was safer to give her time to calm down.

Draco left Hermione alone for a few hours, knowing that when she was like this it was better to give her space. It was approaching dinner time when he went to check on her. She had unlocked the door at some point, allowing him to easily slip into the room and find her curled into a tight ball on the bed. 

“Love?” he asked quietly. “What happened?” 

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, a cry escaping her lips. Moving automatically, Draco climbed onto the bed and held her body snug against his, rubbing small circles on her back.

As she retold the events of the day, he pulled her into a firm hug, trying to send calming and reassuring vibes to her. Trying to assure her that he didn’t care what some silly woman thought of him, even though it killed him to think that people out there believed he was irredeemable. He knew that many in the wizarding community still didn’t believe his story, but to hear that Muggles felt the same was almost too much.

Except for the girl — the one with hair and fire like Hermione’s. The one who had defended him in front of a crowd of strangers. Brave little Gryffindor, indeed.

Just like his wife.

“I still don’t know who she is either! She’s much older than us so she wasn’t in our year at Hogwarts. She would have graduated by the time we got there. I just don’t understand any of it!” Hermione pulled a pillow up to her face and screamed.

“This isn’t something to worry about tonight, love. We’re still on our honeymoon, and if you’re going to be screaming into a pillow, I’d much rather it be because of me.” He leaned in, his lips brushing along the shell of her ear. 

Shivers rocketed down Hermione’s spine and she turned to face him, her mouth moving to cover his. 

“Make me forget her?” she asked desperately. 

And he did. For the next two days, he made her forget that there was anyone else in the world but the two of them.

* * *

**November 2002**

“Another one? Really?” 

“Yes, Red, that’s what a series means. Multiple. More than one.” Draco rolled his eyes and looked back down at the Muggle newspaper in front of him with the yellow circle drawn around the film listings for the evening.

Ginny grumbled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Let me guess, this one is going to be all about how I was the stupid child that wrote to a sentient diary and opened up the mysterious Chamber of Secrets, releasing the basilisk that Petrified my best friend?”

“Considering it’s called _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ , I’m going to assume that, yes, that is the plot.”

“I’m not going,” Ginny said, a thick layer of finality to her voice. “I don’t want to see that played out on a large screen.”

Draco folded up the paper and leaned in closer to Ginny, as if he was about to tell her a secret. “Look, if I have to go and watch some young tosser pretend to be me and call my future wife a Mudblood, then you have to go as well.” 

Guiltily, Ginny looked down at her lap. “Malfoy, what if I can’t sit through it? What if it hurts too much to see myself being possessed?” 

“Then we can be villains together. I’m almost positive that’s what they’ve done to me.”

“You _were_ an awful prat in your second year,” Ginny said, smirking. “At least they got that right.” 

Rolling his eyes again, Draco sat back and opened the paper again, waiting for Hermione and Harry to return with their takeaway dinner.

“Okay, but hear me out,” Ginny said, pulling him from the paper _again_. “What if… what if I just say I’m sick? Maybe I got food poisoning from dinner?” 

“Red, you’re going with us.”

“Oh, you’ve convinced her to join us? Thank Merlin. I’d been trying to all week,” Harry said, dropping a couple of takeaway bags on the table in front of Draco. He placed a loud kiss to Ginny’s head and sat next to her.

“What? You acted all surprised though! ‘Oh another one, Draco? Don’t make me go!’” Draco mocked in a high pitched voice. 

Ginny shrugged and pulled an eggroll from one of the bags. “I figured maybe you’d take my side and we could just skip the whole thing. Let these two idiots go together.” She gestured to Harry and Hermione, who was just walking into the room, wildly with the eggroll. 

“You’re both going. It’s going to be fun!” Hermione said cheerily. 

“I thought you hated the author and everything she stands for?” Harry eyed her sceptically.

Hermione shrugged and sat next to Draco. “I do, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe the film will help me figure out how the author got ahold of all this information about us.” 

“What, like maybe they dropped Rita Skeeter in the background somewhere? Just peeking around a pillar with her Quick Quotes Quill?” Draco asked sarcastically. 

“Maybe!” Hermione’s voice shifted into one of determination. Draco knew it well. It always signified that Hermione knew she was losing the argument but wasn’t going to back down until he’d admitted she won. “Maybe J.K. Rowling is actually Rita Skeeter in disguise! Or, or maybe Hagrid traded our story for a dragon egg! Oh! It could be Madam Pince! It’s always the quiet ones!” 

“You met her earlier this year, love. You know that it’s not any of those people.”

She turned and gave him a withering look. “We know magic, Draco. People disguise themselves all the time. I don’t think we can rule anyone out.” 

“Yes, dear,” he said quietly, knowing damn well it wasn’t worth riling her up like this.

Silence settled over the table as they each tucked into their food. Draco poked at his Chinese food awkwardly, unsure of how he could help his wife. 

Ever since she came back from meeting J.K. Rowling, Hermione had been losing sleep. She would read and reread the novels almost monthly, tracking down every interview she could, going to Muggle libraries to research more. Her job at the Ministry, working as a researcher for the Aurors, was already busy enough without adding any extra personal projects. 

It pained Draco to watch her fall into a state of sleep deprivation over something he had no control over. 

* * *

  
_“Mudblood.”_

_“The last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So it's only a matter of time before one of them is killed this time. As for me, I hope it's Granger.”_

_“You’ll be next, Mudbloods.”_

Every time the word echoed through the cinema, Draco’s stomach lurched. He could barely muster a laugh when the on-screen Hermione appeared as a cat and wanted to vomit at how cruel the on-screen Draco was. 

The worst part was that he remembered saying those exact words.

Hermione would squeeze his hand every single time, like she knew how he was reacting to it, like she was trying to hold him to his seat. 

When the lights in the cinema came on again, Ginny bolted from her chair, rushing to the lobby. Harry quickly followed her, leaving Draco and Hermione on their own. 

They didn’t move for a few minutes. Hermione gripped his hand tightly and let him process his emotions.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to look at her. 

She brought her hand to his face and guided his chin so he was forced to take in her dark chocolate eyes. “It was ten years ago, Draco. I can’t keep having this conversation with you. You have to believe that I forgive you and have moved past it. I know you. You may have said those words, but I know you didn’t believe them.”

Draco nodded his head and took a calming breath. 

“Let’s go find Ginny and Harry, shall we?” Hermione said, a gentle smile pulling on her lips.

They found them sitting on a bench outside the cinema, cool air making their breaths visible. Ginny’s head was between her knees, her body shaking slightly while Harry held her close. 

“Hey, Red,” Draco said, moving to crouch in front of her. 

Ginny looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. “What?”

“You were a child. Harry’s not mad at you, Hermione’s not mad at you, and Merlin knows, I’m the last person to judge someone’s behaviour as a child.” 

“So much happened because of me. If I’d have just left the book alone…”

“If I’d found the book while it was in my own home, maybe it would have been me instead. Maybe my father wouldn’t have slipped it into your cauldron. Ginny, we can blame ourselves for our actions as children until we’re blue in the face, but it doesn’t change them. Only what we do now.” 

“Thanks, Malfoy.” She sat up and wiped her face on the sleeve of her coat. “When did you become such a Hufflepuff?”

Draco shrugged as both Harry and Hermione let out small bursts of laughter. 

“Hermione’s been trying to get me to believe this since we were fourth years. Maybe it’ll take you less time than it has me.”

Standing from his crouched position, Draco reached for Hermione’s hand. They started making their way through the car park to find a safe place to Apparate, letting Harry and Ginny follow them when they were ready.

“Fourth year…” Hermione smiled to herself. “Isn’t that when I kissed you?” 

Draco stopped walking and looked down at his wife, his eyes narrowed.

“I’m pretty sure I kissed you first,” he said quietly, leaning down to brush his lips against hers.

His mouth moved greedily, pulling her body close to his. Gripping the lapels of his coat, Hermione’s tongue swept into his mouth, her body grinding against his deliciously. He thanked Merlin that she was wearing jeans and a jacket, knowing exactly where his hands would move if she weren’t. 

“For fuck’s sake, Malfoy. At least wait until you’re home!” Ginny yelled from the other side of the car park.

Never letting the kiss break, Hermione brought her hand away from Draco’s coat and moved it behind her. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she had flipped them off. 

“Ugh, it’s like seeing them in the library all over again,” Harry muttered as they walked past. “Just go home already.”

No further convincing needed, Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione’s waist and Apparated them home, confident this night would end better than it started. 


	6. FLASHBACK: Fourth Year part 1

**August 1994**

The deafening sound of cheering surrounded the Top Box at the Quidditch World Cup. Draco entered behind his parents, distracted by the crowds of witches and wizards dressed in their favourite team’s colours. 

“Ah, Fudge, how are you? I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?” 

At the mention of his own name, Draco’s attention was pulled from the crowds to where his father was standing, shaking the Minister’s hand. Draco stuck his hand out politely and repeated his father’s action, trying not to sneer at the hideous lime green hat sitting on the man’s head. 

“Why don’t you go find yourself a seat, Dragon? Your father and I will be over shortly,” Draco’s mother said quietly. She placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze before pushing him towards the angled row at the front of the box. 

He moved towards the seats, trying to scope out a free spot when the sight of a bushy-haired girl caught his attention. By some miracle, there was a single seat available to her left, right at the end of the aisle. 

“Saving this for me?” he asked quietly, slipping into the seat. 

Granger turned to face him, her face lighting up at the sight of him. “Malfoy!” She kept her voice quiet, but the excitement could be heard easily. 

Potter looked over and smiled nervously, while Weasley looked as if he was biting back a rude comment. Apparently a summer apart was nearly enough for their friendship to deteriorate.

“Granger,” Draco said, taking in her red and black scarf. “You can’t seriously be cheering for Bulgaria!”

“What? Ron said that Bulgaria and Krum are the best!” Hermione looked down at her scarf, toying with the ends of it self-consciously. 

“No way. Ireland’s Seeker is far superior. Weasley, what are you doing brainwashing her with your rubbish Quidditch opinions?”

“Oh shut it, Malfoy! No one cares what you think,” Ron snapped. “Leave Hermione alone, it’s not as if you even like her.”

His heart sank. He had been looking forward to going back to school and seeing his friends for the first time in months, but now he was unsure if they even were his friends. Granger had looked excited when she’d first seen him, though. Perhaps that was just a facade. 

Rejected, Draco twisted his body away from the Gryffindors and faced the field. He debated leaving to find another spot to sit but knew there wouldn’t be any empty seats since the game was starting soon.

The smell of a spring meadow assaulted his senses as Granger shifted closer to him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I told them we couldn’t be obvious about our friendship with you, but Ron seems to have taken it too far.” 

Without taking his eyes off the field, he whispered back, “So you don’t hate me? We’re still friends?”

Granger shoved his arm playfully. “Of course we are. Were you worried, Malfoy?”

“Wha – no!” he stammered, trying to reign in his emotions. “I was just wondering whether or not I should yell at Weasel.”

Hermione giggled. “Well, he did tell me to cheer for Bulgaria.” 

“About that,” Draco said, pulling out his wand stealthily. He tapped on the edge of her scarf, watching as the colours changed to green and white. “Green looks better on you, Granger.” 

Her face lit up, a playful gleam in her eyes. His heart fluttered, noticing for the first time that his best friend was almost beautiful. He had missed her over the past few months, constantly trying to resist writing to her or finding a way to visit her. 

But being here with her felt like coming home. 

The match started and Draco stood to cheer with the others. The Bulgarians played poorly, and the Irish team’s score just climbed higher and higher. The Irish Seeker, Aidan Lynch, kept making mistakes and following Krum’s distractions, and Draco thought that, even at fifteen, _ he _ would be a better competitor against the Bulgarian. Even with the significant lead, Draco wasn’t sure if Ireland would be able to win if Lynch didn’t pull it together. 

Just when the Irish fans had begun to give up hope for Lynch, the two Seekers raced through the skies, flying neck and neck. They dove and twisted, trying to stay on top of the other. Draco’s eyes scanned the field, honing in on his own Seeker skills to find the Snitch.

When a flash of gold flew by the box, everyone stood, yelling and screaming for Krum or Lynch to catch it. Even Hermione, who had participated in the cheering even though she looked unimpressed, was yelling for Lynch to get the Snitch.

Krum’s broom slid ahead, giving him the distance he needed to reach out and pluck the Snitch from the air. There was a quick moment when the entire stadium froze, unsure if Krum had truly just lost the game for his team. 

Thunderous claps and stomps erupted from various boxes as the Irish fans cheered for their team. People were singing as the Irish team flew through the air, the Chasers hoisting the cup above their heads. 

“Great advice, Malfoy,” Granger said, grinning. Her cheeks were tinged pink from the cold air and excitement.

“Draco!” his father yelled from the other side of the box, blond head scanning the small group for his son.

“I have to go. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.” He grinned back at her, glad that he was able to share this moment, no matter how brief, with her.

He followed his parents through the crowds of people, thankful that they parted for the Malfoys. His mother glanced back at him quickly, silently reminding him to be careful around his father. 

It had been a long summer, and he’d avoided his father as best he could. Hours were spent flying through the grounds of the Manor, weaving in and out of the hedges and scaring the elves that were working. Crabbe and Goyle would visit occasionally, but Draco tried not to invite them over often. After spending time with Granger, Potter, and Weasley, he found it harder and harder to dumb down his conversations for others. Even Weasley was more intelligent than Crabbe and Goyle. 

“Narcissa, take Draco with you back to the tent. There is some business I have to take care of,” his father said, ducking his head to peck his mother’s cheek. 

His mother sighed quietly, taking a moment to compose herself. Draco moved forward and offered his elbow to her just as he’d been raised to do. 

“Thank you, my dragon. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

They moved between the various tents, all the same size on the outside. Theirs wasn’t far away, located in one of the best campsites closest to the pitch, just as most of the wealthier families were. His mother waved her wand, bringing down the wards on their tent and entering through the canvas. 

“Mother,” Draco said, following behind her. “Where did Father go? What business does he need to take care of at the Quidditch World Cup?” 

“Nothing for you to worry about, Draco.” She sat down in one of the plush chairs by the fire, waiting for their elf to bring over tea. “School is starting soon. Will you be sitting with your new friends on the train?”

He blanched. “Wha – what new friends?” 

She took a sip and peered at him over her mug. “Darling, I am amazed that your father believes anything you tell him. You are a terrible liar.” 

“I am not! I’m a Slytherin and a Malfoy! We’ve mastered the art of deceit.” 

“Yes, but you are also a Black, and we wear our emotions on our sleeves. You wouldn’t remember them — you were too young — but both your Aunt Bella and cousin Sirius were terrible liars. They told you exactly what they felt, whether you wanted to hear it or not.” She set her tea cup down on the try levitating beside her and folded her hands over her knee. “You never need to lie to me Draco — I can read you far better than you know — but it is crucial you learn to lie to your father. Especially if you continue to befriend frizzy-haired Gryffindors.”

_ Had his father seen them together? _

Draco’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t want to think of what would happen to him if he was caught befriending a Muggle-born. It would be worse than being disowned, he was sure. 

Shouting from outside pulled Draco from his panicked thoughts. His head snapped up and he looked at the opening of the tent. A faint orange glow flickered in the distance, growing bigger and bigger. He moved to the tent flap, intending to close it to drown out the sounds of parties in the distance, and saw red and green spells tearing through the night sky, stopping him in his tracks.

People were scrambling all around him, running from their tents to the forest surrounding the campsites. The sounds of frantic shouting grew louder.

“They’re attacking the Muggle-borns!” someone shouted nearby.

“Mother,” Draco said, his voice weak with fear. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the chaos. “I – I need–”

“Go. Get her out safely,” she interrupted, joining him at the opening of the tent. “Be smart, avoid your father, and make sure you come back to me.”

He nodded his head stiffly and took off running for the trees. He didn’t know where their campsite was, but knowing the Weasleys, they would be further away from the centre of the festivities. He hoped it was enough distance to keep them safe. 

More explosions ricocheted around him, turning the campsite into a battlefield. Spells flew over his head and lit the night sky in an array of colours. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so terrifying. 

Running along the side of the trees, Draco was able to see more of what was happening. Figures floated in the air above the tents, their feet held high in the air, clothing fallen around their heads. He picked up his speed, weaving around the people making their escape, trying to get closer to the action. 

He slammed into another body and was thrown into a nearby tree. His vision clouded over on the impact and he could hear a faint ringing in his ears, though he wasn’t sure if that was a result of the collision or the explosions that continued around him.

“Watch it!” yelled a distinct voice from a few feet away.

“Ron? Are you alright? What’s happened?”

Draco’s head cleared at the voice. “Granger?”

“Malfoy? What’s going on? Why are you here?” Granger asked. She stooped down and placed her hands on either side of his face, checking to see if he was okay. 

“You need to get out of here,  _ now _ .” He shook his head and scrambled to stand up, his balance wavering slightly at the movement. “Granger’s not safe. They’re after Muggles.” 

Potter stood behind Granger with his hands clenched into fists at his side. “Hermione’s a witch. I’d thought you’d realised that by now, Malfoy.” 

“They won’t care, Potter! Get her out of here. I swear to Salazar, if she gets hurt on your watch, I will never let you live it down!”

A spell shot through the tents at the edge of the forest before colliding with one of the trees, causing it to burst into flames. Granger lept towards Draco, her hands clinging to the robes covering his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held on. 

“You need to leave,” he said, his voice stern.

Weasley reached for Granger’s hand and pulled her away, her hands slipping from his robes. “Come on, ‘Mione. Malfoy’s right.” 

If it weren’t such a dire situation, Draco would have boasted that Weasley just said he was right. 

She looked at Draco, her eyes wide. “What about you? Are you coming?” 

Shaking his head, he stepped away from them. “I have to go back to my mother.” 

The Gryffindors nodded their heads and turned to run. Granger looked back at him just as they were slipping out of sight, and he prayed they would make it to the Portkeys. He hoped he’d done enough.

The fire that ran through the tents had swallowed everything in its path before simmering into low flames that flickered in small pockets around the campsites. It looked like a graveyard, the burnt remains of trees and personal belongings littering the ground. Smoke filled the air, clouding the night sky with an ashy grey haze. The screaming that could be heard earlier morphed into cheering — joyous, malicious laughter.

A flash of green shot into the sky from somewhere in front of him, the spell disappearing into the clouds. A chill ran through Draco’s body as he watched the sky. It looked like an open mouth had appeared in the smoke and the rest of the skull slowly came into view. He waited, too scared to even breathe, as a serpent slithered out of the open mouth. 

_ Morsmordre _ . 

He knew it well. He had seen the faded image of it burned into his father’s skin. It had only been a tattoo before, a part of a story he heard as a child. 

_ “If the Dark Lord were still alive, you’d get one too, Draco _ ,” he’d been told, as if it were a right of passage. 

But now, seeing it move through the sky, stealing the stars and casting fear upon those watching, it felt like more than just a story. It was his future, reminding him of who he was supposed to become. 

His feet were lead, heavy and held to the ground, and the cheering faded into a quiet buzzing in his ear. Every sense was focused on one spot in the distance, where a tall figure stood in a black cloak, silver mask covering his features. 

The figure stared at Draco from across the burnt remains, a blond ponytail whipping in the wind, a stark contrast to the world around them.

A reminder to Draco of where he belonged in the world.

* * *

**September 1994**

The approaching school year had weighed heavily on Draco. The events of the Quidditch World Cup had shifted the tension within his home. His father was away for most of the last weeks of the summer holidays, and for that he was thankful. He was able to spend more time in the library and having tea with his mother, unsuccessfully trying to forget what he had seen and prepare for the upcoming year. 

He worried that someone would find out who his true friends were, or that his father would show up and drag him away to Durmstrang, branding his skin and preparing him for the second coming of the Dark Lord — if there ever was one.

But now, sitting in the courtyard with Granger, teaching her how to properly play wizard’s chess, he felt safer than ever. 

They were perched on a stone wall with the board set up between them. He knew he could have easily won the game within the first ten minutes, but what was the fun in that? He much preferred watching the way Granger’s tongue poked out between her lips when she was deep in thought, or the way she would cover her eyes when one of her pieces was smashed to bits. 

“Bishop to–” 

“Are you sure?” he interrupted, knowing that moving her bishop would end their game too soon.

She closed her mouth and stared at the board, recalculating. “Alright… Knight to E4?”

“Is that a question or a command, Granger?” 

“A command.” She sat up a bit straighter, rolling her shoulders back. “Knight to E4.” 

The marble piece slid across the board. If she played the next turn right, she could actually win. They had already played three games since returning to Hogwarts and this was the closest she had ever gotten. Draco grinned at her progress. 

“Miserable old bat,” said Weasley, coming to stand beside them, Potter at his side. “I don’t know how she expects us to finish that all by Monday!”

“Lots of homework?” Granger said with a grin. She motioned between her and Draco. “Professor Vector didn’t give us any at all.” 

“Hey, ‘Mione? I have a great idea! Since you like homework so much, why don’t you help me with my Divination?” 

Granger rolled her eyes and shook her head. “If I wanted to write rubbish reports I would have taken the class myself.”

“You’re no fun.” He sighed and looked down at the board. “Once you beat Malfoy, I’m playing next.”

A wide smile split her face. “I might actually win?”

From behind her, Potter let out a quiet scoff. “He only let you win because he fancies you.”

Draco’s heart stopped. Did he fancy her? No, no of course not. Granger was his best friend. 

“Is that true?” she asked quietly, gazing up at him through thick lashes. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said, as if that answered her question. 

Weasley and Potter both laughed.

“He’s fancied you since last year, Hermione. Did you not see him at the World Cup? ‘ _ Green looks so good on you, Granger _ ’,” Potter teased.

“Green is much better than red, so of course it looks good on her,” Draco said smugly, hoping they would drop the conversation.

Rolling his eyes, Potter added, “Right, nothing to do with you wanting to see her in your Quidditch jersey?” 

“Watch it,” Draco warned. He stood up and stared at Potter, thankful for the three centimetres he had on him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give him the feeling of superiority. 

Potter pushed at his chest. “Or what? We all know you like her, except for you it seems.” 

Draco pushed him back harder, watching the way he stumbled back, nearly falling to the ground. 

“Malfoy!” Granger screamed. Weasley pushed her behind him, looking as if he was going to come to Potter’s rescue.

All three wizards were reaching for their wands when a loud bang echoed off the stone walls. 

Everything happened very quickly for Draco. The world shifted and it felt like he was falling. One minute he was looking down at Potter, and the next he was staring up at the world. All the colour seemed to drain from his surroundings and he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him. Granger let out a small squeal that sounded as if she was screaming in his ear. 

He tried to move away, to go and find somewhere quiet, but movement felt different. His body had fallen oddly and he wondered if something was broken. 

“Oh no you don’t, laddie!” yelled a loud voice. 

Draco froze, unsure of what was going on. He was confused and even a little scared — not that he would ever admit that out loud. 

The voice yelled again, “Did he get you?”

Looking around for the source, Draco was met with a large dark figure fast approaching with the tell-tale gait of Professor Moody. Why couldn’t he see him? What spell had he been hit with?

He tried to respond to the professor, to tell him that he had been hit with something, but all that came out was a strange hissing noise. 

There was too much noise and light. He needed to get out of there. Pushing through his confusion and fear, he tried to move down the hallway. The hospital wing was a lot closer than the dungeons. Maybe Madam Pomfrey would be able to help him. 

“I don’t think so!” 

The wind left his chest as his body soared into the air. He barely had time to catch his breath before he was slammed back into the ground. Screaming in pain, Draco wondered why this was happening. So he had pushed Potter! He had done far worse with far less repercussions. But a tiny little push and he gets hit with a curse and attacked?

Oh, someone would be hearing about this.

“Professor Moody!”

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody in a gruff voice as Draco continued to bounce against the floor. Most of his ribs had to have cracked by this point. 

Professor McGonagall’s heels clicked against the stones. “What – what are you doing?” 

She would save him, wouldn’t she? 

“Teaching.”

Draco screamed again, trying to recoil away from the hissing. Their conversation was loud, threatening to burst Draco’s eardrums. He wouldn’t recover from this. He would never hear Granger lecture him about how unsafe Quidditch was, or see a gentle blush fill her cheeks when he teased her about her hair, ever again. He might even miss arguing with Weasley over the proper way to play chess. 

Oh Merlin, his mother would kill him. 

“Professor Moody! Is that a student?!” 

“Yep.” The  _ p _ echoed through the corridor with a pop.

Another loud scream penetrated his ears, followed by the distinct hum of a spell hitting him. He fell to the floor and instinctively curled into a ball. Someone pulled his head into their lap, stroking his hair and murmuring into his ear. 

“It’s alright, you’re alright.” Granger’s voice calmed him and the smell of her shampoo overwhelmed his senses. She was curled over him, protecting him from further harm.

The volume of his professors’ argument returned to a regular level, though Draco’s head still ached. With every inhale, he could feel his ribs pressing against his lungs, threatening to burst them, though he wasn’t certain they hadn’t already been punctured. 

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, go retrieve Madam Pomfrey. Miss Granger, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to look at Mr. Malfoy myself.”

Granger shifted so that she wasn’t covering him as much, though his head still remained in her lap. 

Draco kept his eyes closed, too scared to open them and discover that the spell had blinded him. “What happened?” he choked out.

“Improper teaching methods,” snarled Professor McGonagall. She continued to murmur a few spells, easing some of his pain.

Madam Pomfrey joined them and had him drink a small vial. The world faded to grey and his pain was only a memory — a terrible, horrible memory. 

* * *

Draco awoke in the hospital wing, the early morning sun streaming in through the window above his head. His head felt normal and he could see and hear properly, almost as if the day before had never happened. 

Turning his head to find Granger sitting in the chair next to him, her nose in a book, he wondered how long she had been by his side. Her uniform was rumpled and her hair looked as if it had grown in size. There were dark circles under her eyes, highlighted by the rays of sun. 

Her eyes lifted to meet his and he could see the tension in her shoulders release. “How are you?” 

Stretching his arms above his head and pointing his toes, he mentally checked all his bones and muscles. Everything moved as it should with no residual pain.

“Good as new,” he said with a crooked grin. “Worried about me, Granger?”

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Of course I was. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“I promise, I’ve never felt better.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes drawn back to her book. She picked up the hardcover text before bringing it up and smacking him in the arm, hard. “Don’t you ever do that again, you absolute idiot!” Each word was punctuated with another smack.

He recoiled from her, raising his arms to protect himself. “Wh – Granger! What are you doing?!”

She hit him once more before dropping it back into her lap and placing her head in her hands. “You’re a prat, Draco Malfoy. How could you do that?”

“Me?” he gasped. “I was the one hit with a spell and thrown into the ground repeatedly.” 

“You pushed Harry! There was no need for physical violence! Besides, all your bones have grown back and Madam Pomfrey said there should be no remaining side effects from your brief time as a ferret.”

“ _ Ferret?! I was a bloody ferret?! _ ” 

Granger rolled her eyes at him. “Briefly. And Professor McGonagall has assured me that Professor Moody will be reprimanded for his actions. But you! You need to apologize to Harry.”

Draco scoffed, his head still reeling from the fact that he had been transfigured into a rodent. No wonder everything had felt so different. He couldn’t understand why Granger was so worked up over his fight with Potter and not the fact that he’d been transfigured.

“I will  _ not _ apologize to Potter. He started it all with his incessant lies.” 

“What lies? He said you fancy me. Is that a lie?”

_ Shite _ . He had hoped he wouldn’t need to have this conversation with her while he was still trying to figure out his feelings. 

“You’re my best friend.”

Her face fell, hurt. “That’s not an answer. Do you fancy me?”

Heart hammering in his ribcage, he thought of how to tell her.  _ I think I like you. I think you might be the best thing to ever happen to me. You’re too good for someone like me. _

He had waited too long. Granger stood up and pulled her bag over her shoulder. “Grow up and apologize to Harry. Don’t bother speaking to me until you’ve done that.”

His heart sank in his chest. How had he mucked this all up? She would never return his feelings, and saying it out loud would only ruin what they had worked towards. Though, it seemed he didn’t even have to speak to ruin things.

Draco rolled over in the hospital bed, turning his back to the door, wondering if he could get a Time-Turner and fix everything.

  
  



	7. FLASHBACK: Fourth Year part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for all the love you've been giving me on this story! It warms my heart and makes me grin like a fool with each and every comment and kudos!
> 
> A quick note before we jump in that I had to update the tags on this story. As I've gotten further along in writing the story, the depictions of abuse have been more than just referenced. I promise to give warnings for any chapters where it becomes more than just implied. This chapter is NOT one of them, but wanted to let you know now. I won't be hurt if you feel the need to step away now. 
> 
> Please feel free to reach out to me on Tumblr @BreathOfThePhoenix if you have any questions about the warnings or just want to say hi :)

**November 1994**

“You will come to ball with me, Herm-ninny?” 

Hermione stifled a giggle behind her hand and nodded. “Of course, Viktor. I’d love to go to the Yule Ball with you.”

Viktor grinned, his lips parting to show perfectly white teeth. A slight blush crept up his neck, barely visible above the fur collar on his robes, but it made Hermione’s stomach flip. 

He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to her fingers. “I will see you later, yes?” 

Nodding her head, she watched as Viktor’s chair scraped back along the library floor and he stood to leave. 

“Until next time,” he added, flashing her another shy grin.

In all her life, she had never imagined someone like Viktor Krum paying her any attention. He had girls from all three schools fawning over him and could have asked any of them, but there he was, joining her in the library almost every evening and asking  _ her _ to the dance. 

She appreciated the way they could talk about books that no one else had heard of or discuss the different teaching methods each school had. Viktor didn’t care that she was Muggle-born or that she had never heard of Durmstrang, and he barely seemed surprised when she said she didn’t like Quidditch.

It wasn’t love, or infatuation, or anything more than gaining a new friend with whom she could connect to intellectually. 

There was the added bonus of watching Malfoy’s face anytime he saw them together. The tips of his ears would turn pink, and for a moment he would look like he wanted to say something. Then he would puff out his chest and storm away. It was like a routine, and Hermione never tired of watching it happen. It would only be a matter of time before he would come crawling back to apologise.

After apologising to Harry first, of course. 

“Are you aware that Draco Malfoy is staring at you?” asked Lavender, plopping down in the seat Viktor had just occupied.

Hermione looked over Lavender’s shoulder and saw Malfoy sitting three tables away, watching her carefully. He wasn’t even trying to conceal it by reading a book or pretending to study. 

Rolling her eyes, she focused back on Lavender. “You don’t always have to refer to him by both names, you know. He’s the only Draco  _ and _ Malfoy in the school.” 

Lavender waved her hand in the air as if she were clearing it of Hermione’s words. “Have you seen him? Someone like that is worthy of both names. Besides, I thought you were friends with him?”

“Malfoy’s a prat,” Hermione replied, tugging her lip between her teeth nervously. “Even if I  _ was _ friends with him — and I’m not saying I was — he’s spoiled and arrogant and doesn’t know when he’s in the wrong.”

“Well, whatever it is going on between you, he’s not happy that Krum has been sitting with you.”

Narrowing her gaze at Lavender, she replied with a bitter tone, “What do you want, Lavender? A date with Krum? Me to set you two up?”

Lavender laughed and brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Merlin, no. Krum is fit, but I have a thing for redheads. Erm – I mean… please don’t repeat that.”

“Of course not.” She dropped her gaze back down to her text, hoping that the other girl would take the clue and leave. Krum had already distracted her enough this afternoon.

Rolling her eyes, Lavender looked over her shoulder once more. “If you’re trying to get his attention, I could help. I mean, I know we weren’t really friends before this year, but there’s no time like the present.” 

“I – I’ll think about it. Thanks, Lav. I mean it. And… uh… if you change your mind about the redhead… just let me know.”

The other girl nodded her head and smiled awkwardly at Hermione. Their friendship had been nonexistent prior to this year, and for some reason both girls had felt it necessary to try to get to know each other again. It appeared as if there was even the chance of a friendship, if they could each look past the other’s more annoying qualities. 

Hermione’s eyes dropped back to her text, trying to focus on the Goblin Rebellion and not the grey eyes watching her from a distance. 

Or perhaps not so distant. 

“Being friends with Krum I can understand. He’s smart, or famous like Potter, or something. But Lavender? Really? I expected more from you, Granger.”

She kept her eyes focused down, trying to ignore him. 

“Come on, Granger. You can’t still be mad at me, can you?”

_ The Goblin Rebellion started in the 18th century while Albert– _

“Seriously? Nothing? Real mature. I get turned into a fucking ferret and you expect me to apologise.”

_ -Boot was the Minister for Magic. Boot’s retirement as Minister was largely due to his mismanagement of– _

“Granger,” Malfoy’s voice was a whine. “Please, just talk to me. I – I miss being your friend.”

Snapping her book shut and standing from her chair, she tucked the text under her arm. “I told you what you need to do and you haven’t done it. So until that time, I will  _ date _ and be friends with whomever I like.”

She marched out of the library and straight to the Great Hall. Her friends were just settling in for dinner and she sat to join them.

“Hey Lav?”

The blonde turned her head, pulled from her conversation with Parvati and Dean. 

“I’m taking you up on your end of the offer.”

Lavender beamed, her brown eyes twinkling. “I have just the dress for you!”

* * *

**December 1994**

“Hermy-own.”

Hermione giggled. “No, Her-my-oh-nee.”

“Herm-own-ninny.”

“Close enough.” She grinned at the proud look on his face when she said he got it right. She didn’t dare burst his bubble.

“Is that Hermione Granger?” whispered a Slytherin to her friend, both dressed in clichéd green dresses. “She looks beautiful.”

The two girls headed into the Great Hall where the rest of the students were, waiting for the four Champions and their dates to enter and begin the festivities. 

Lavender had forced Hermione into a beautiful periwinkle dress with layers that moved like she was floating. It was so unlike anything Hermione would have bought for herself but she was completely in love with it. Her frizzy curls had been tamed into long ringlets that fell midway down her back and were pulled off her face with a gold clip. Both Lavender and Parvati assured her that if there  _ was _ a certain jealous Slytherin at the ball, he would be falling at her feet the moment he saw her. 

“You look very beautiful,” Viktor agreed, his eyes roaming over her face and body. 

It was becoming more and more obvious to Hermione that Viktor may see more between them than just a friendship. She would need to end this before he got carried away. Especially since she knew that there could never be a future with him if Malfoy was still in her peripherals. 

“Alright children, time to line up,” said Professor McGonagall. She organized the eight students and then signalled for them to enter.

The large oak doors swung open and Hermione took in the snowy decorations around her. It looked as if Jack Frost had come and left kisses of snow and ice on every surface. Gone were the traces of house colours and the large tables, replaced with more intimate seating and ice sculptures. 

The band in the front began playing a beautiful instrumental piece and Viktor pulled her close, his hand on her waist leading them. As they twirled around the dance floor, she caught sight of some of her classmates, all staring at her in wonder. Lavender grinned and gave her a thumbs up.

Following the steps of the dance, Viktor spun her out, allowing the layers of her dress to fan around her. She was certain she heard a few of the girls nearby gasp. Was it really that shocking for her to be wearing a dress made for twirling?

The song ended and Viktor bowed to her deeply. She returned with a curtsey, each of them grinning at the other. Her heart leapt when he kissed her hand and led her off the dance floor to a nearby table. 

Ron and Harry joined her, their dates absent. They looked as if they had just been given a month’s worth of detentions and lost the Quidditch Cup in one fell swoop.

“What are you both so sour about?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.

Ron gawked at her and motioned towards his robes. “Do you see this? I’m in a bloody dress!”

Harry snorted a laugh, his face barely registering amusement. He turned and glared at the dance floor. “I can’t believe she’s here with him. She should be here with me.”

Cho and Cedric spun past them, smiling at each other in a sickeningly sweet way.

“Harry, honestly,” Hermione said, waving her hand in front of his face so he’d stop staring at the couple. “Cedric asked her first and they  _ are _ dating. What is it with you boys and not knowing how relationships work?”

Both boys turned their heads and looked at her pointedly.

Not one to hold back, Ron spoke first. “You’re one to talk, ‘Mione. You’ve been in love with Malfoy since you punched him in the face and yet you’re here with Krum. Care to explain how that works?” 

She inhaled quickly through her teeth. “Malfoy says there’s nothing between us, so clearly there is nothing between us.” She stood and greeted Viktor, taking the glass of punch from his outstretched hand. After downing the glass and placing the cup on the table with a little too much force, she grabbed his hand and dragged him back out onto the dance floor. 

The night continued on and she only saw Malfoy once. He was accompanied by a group of Slytherins she recognized from classes but had never seen him spend much time with, outside of meals in the Great Hall. Watching Pansy Parkinson cling to his arm made her heart pang with jealousy — but only a little. When he caught her eye, his smile fell a fraction. He shook Pansy’s hand from his robes before storming out of the Great Hall. 

Half of her felt smug at the look on his face. Good, he should be upset. He could be there with her if he hadn’t been so stubborn. But the other half of her — the half that seemed to be talking louder — was screaming at her to go after him, to tell him that she wasn’t dating anyone. That being there with Viktor didn’t mean anything. They were just friends.

Viktor was an excellent date, of course. He knew how to dance, he was charming, he would place quick pecks against her cheek. And he never asked her why she continued to stare at the main doors. Was she waiting for Malfoy to return? To pull her into his arms and proclaim his love for her?

Of course not — that only happened in fairytales and daydreams.

“Will you excuse me?” she asked when the song ended. Viktor squeezed her arm gently and stepped out of her way. 

There were students standing around in the corridor outside the Great Hall — some just taking a break from dancing, though most were couples pressed against each other in the shadows.

Malfoy stepped into her view, his hair thoroughly mussed and his robes slightly askew. When he looked up, his eyes locked on hers. The air left her lungs when she saw Pansy step out behind him, her hands flattening her dress, a smug look on her face. 

“Gra – Granger…” Malfoy stammered. He looked at Pansy and then back to her. His eyes grew wide and he immediately rushed towards her. “No, no this isn’t – I didn’t – I wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t what?” Hermione demanded, taking a step away from him. 

“She – Pansy and I – it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Tears burned in the corners of her eyes, rage building in her chest. “Were you not snogging Pansy just now?”

“No! I promise!” Trying to close the distance between them, he stepped towards her again. “Granger, I swear that I was not kissing Pansy.”

Hermione shook her head, feeling traitorous tears spill down her cheeks, ruining the makeup Lavender had put on her. She wanted to run, to hide from him, to forget that she ever had feelings for him. 

“Is this why you won’t apologize to Harry? Because you don’t actually have feelings for me and you would rather me sit by and think that maybe it would be possible for you to love me too?” She paused, waiting for him to say something. “I thought you had changed, Malfoy, but you’re just as arrogant and selfish as I once thought.” 

Heart hammering in her chest, she turned her back on him, not caring to watch as his face fell. Not caring to see if Pansy consoled him, or if he would go back and continue his evening as if nothing happened.

No, as far as she was concerned, Draco Malfoy was no longer her best friend.

* * *

**March 1995**

He thought the Second Task was going to kill him. Granger hadn’t been there, and someone had concluded that she, along with Weasley, Chang, and the sister of the Beauxbaton Champion, was being held in the depths of the Black Lake. 

Her life was in the hands of some Quidditch star who had lost his team the World Cup. 

_ Shite. _

But she had made it, being the first pulled to the surface. Draco watched as she clung to Krum, her lips blue and her hair sticking to her face. 

He had never been so jealous of someone in his entire life. Did he want to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Fuck no. Too many people died and he was not dumb enough to try and enter his name in at fourteen. What he wanted was to be the person Granger thanked and hugged and kissed on the cheek.

After the task, after watching Potter be the hero,  _ again _ , he stormed back to the castle. He didn’t bother waiting for his Slytherin friends to join him or finding out how Granger, Potter, and Weasley were. 

“Draco Malfoy, my my, you look exactly like your father did at your age.”

He turned to his left and saw Rita Skeeter leaning against a stone column, a quill floating behind her, waiting for something to write. 

“Hello, Miss Skeeter. Enjoy the Second Task?” He smiled at her sweetly, like he’d been raised to do.

Skeeter had come to nearly all of the events hosted by his parents, always schmoozing and trying to get the latest gossip about someone. His parents had told him early on not to fall for her tricks, and never to let her know that he didn’t trust her. She was a valuable asset to them, and it was better to keep her close so she could be easily manipulated. 

She grinned at him, batting her long eyelashes. “It was simply marvellous. Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger are quite the pair, don’t you think?”

_ Stay focused, Draco. Don’t let her know. _

“They are quite the pair, yes,” he managed through gritted teeth. “I must go, my apologies, Miss Skeeter.” 

“Oh, Draco, darling. Do give your parents my best. Your father and I were very close friends during our time at Hogwarts and it’s been far too long since your mother has hosted one of her wonderful events.”

His brow furrowed at Skeeter’s words. His parents often spoke about their Hogwarts friends, but not once did they mention that Skeeter was one of them. Hell, he didn’t even know they were that close in age.

“S – Sure. Of course, I will pass that along.” He nodded his head at her and quickly walked away, his mind racing. Why wasn’t he aware of his father’s friendship with Skeeter? 

And more importantly, if Krum and Granger really were quite the pair, what was he going to do to stop it?

* * *

She was sitting at her usual table, tucked in the back of the library, a single lamp providing light in the late hour. Her hair, in the same controlled curls from the Yule Ball, cascaded around her face. The frizz of her younger years was gone, replaced with something more mature. It wasn’t that she wasn’t beautiful before, but now there was something different about her. Confidence, maybe. Like she finally understood that she was more than just the bookish Gryffindor. 

Perhaps it was her relationship with Krum that had done it. They had looked like the perfect pair at the Yule Ball, and the way he hugged her after the Second Task — anyone could see the chemistry between the two of them.

And Draco knew he had fucked up. 

He wanted to be the one she took to the Yule Ball. He wanted to be the one to hug her when the Second Task finished and Potter made it out alright. He wanted to be sitting next to her, studying with her like they used to. 

It felt strange that their fight had been going on nearly as long as their friendship had been. 

Fuck it. It ended today. 

He strode over to her table, a confidence to his step that didn’t match his emotions. The quiet library echoed his footsteps, the noise bouncing off the shelves around him. Still, her head remained focused on the book in front of her. 

“Gr – Hermione,” he said, his voice shaking slightly with nerves. “May I join you?”

She glanced up at him and motioned for him to sit. Her lips were pressed together, her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to speak.

After what felt like eternity, he finally spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such an arse.”

“And?” 

He inhaled, trying to calm his nerves. “I apologized to Potter today. For pushing him. For letting him get the better of me. And now, I’m here to apologize to you.”

“What for?” 

“For not being honest with you when you asked if I had feelings for you.”

Silence stretched on and Draco swore he could hear their heartbeats mixing together — a hammering rhythm weighing heavy in the air. 

When she didn’t say anything, he spoke again. “I didn’t kiss Pansy at the Yule Ball. I stepped out because I saw Krum kiss your cheek and I couldn’t stand the feeling of watching you together and not being your date. I messed everything up and I had to watch you look beautiful and happy and so goddamn perfect.” His voice cracked and he took a steadying breath. “Pansy followed me, she’d been drinking and could barely stand straight. She tried to kiss me, but I pushed her away. I didn’t — I don’t — want to kiss her, Granger. I want to kiss you.”

Her breathing hitched, her eyes growing wide. He thought she might hit him or storm away. 

He wasn’t expecting her to lean forward and grab his tie, pulling his face close to hers from across the table. 

He wasn’t expecting her to press her lips against his — hard and urgent, like she had a craving that needed to be met and only he could fulfill it.

The kiss broke and she slid back into her seat, her face flushed in the dim light, her breathing shallow. 

Draco stood and walked around the table, pulling her to her feet, his arm wrapping around her waist. “You kissed me,” he whispered. 

She pressed her lips to his again, softer this time. “I did.”

“What about Krum?” he asked, his free hand weaving into her hair and holding her close. 

“I was never with Viktor. We’re friends, that’s all.” She smirked at him, a playful gleam in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in months. “Were you jealous, Malfoy?”

Rather than responding verbally, he pulled her into a deep kiss, pressing his tongue against the seam of her lips for entrance. She tasted sweet, like tea and biscuits, and he never wanted the kiss to end. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the fine hairs at his nape, her torso flush against his. 

Pushing her back onto the table, her legs on either side of his hips, they kissed slowly, cautiously, neither one venturing into unknown territories. No matter how much he wanted to, he never let his hands stray from her hair or waist. He wanted to explore, to feel every part of her, but he knew it was too soon. 

Why rush when they had so much time ahead of them?

They stayed in the library until it was almost curfew, exchanging gentle kisses and stories from the past few months. He walked her to the Gryffindor portrait, holding her hand like the lovesick teenagers they were. He kissed her sweetly, soaking in the taste of her tongue and the feeling of her hands in his hair. 

Granger was his, and he would do whatever it took to keep her. Come hell or high water, he was never going to lose her again.    
  



	8. Chapter 8

**July 2003**

The large store, covered in ropes of twisted crepe paper, looked like some monstrosity of a party that an overexcited Gryffindor might throw. Sure, there were sparse corners decorated in yellow and black, blue and bronze, and green and silver, but most of the space was decked out in red and gold. Even the staff working there seemed to favour _that_ house. It was highly unfair.

Draco was able to look past their horrible choice in colours, though he would never admit it out loud. What he couldn't look past was all of the other horrendous decorations they used. The front doors had been covered in some sort of cloth painted to look like a brick wall, with a slice down the middle, and garish letters overhead that read "Platform 9 ¾." Everyone had to walk through the sheet to get into the main room. He suspected they were aiming for the Great Hall, what with the paper candles hung from the ceiling using some type of clear thread and house colours everywhere. But they'd missed the mark.

It looked cheap and tacky. Surely others thought this looked horrible, right? Would Hermione have come in here and looked on in wonder at the sight the way everyone else seemed to? Even Potter seemed to be enjoying himself, though that could be due to the fact that this was a party to celebrate him.

People milled around Draco, dressed in various types of costumes. Much to his dismay, most were dressed in black robes with red ties, round glasses, and literal lightning bolts on their foreheads. Did they truly believe that Harry's scar looked like _that_?

"Remind me again why you and I are here without Hermione," Harry whispered, his eyes widening at all the miniature versions of himself wandering around.

Draco shrugged. "She's still upset about meeting the author and says she would only bring the evening down."

"Right," Harry replied, nodding his head slightly. "But why are _we_ here?"

"Look, Potter, I don't know exactly what you do to keep your wife happy, but I know mine loves books. She loves to read more than she loves me some days. And if my wife says she wants me to get a book for her at a stupid midnight release party, I'm going to get her that book."

Harry chuckled and elbowed Draco in the ribs. "She's got you wrapped around her finger, you know that, right?"

Laughing, Draco replied with a smirk, "There are other things I prefer _she_ wrap around _me_."

"No! La la la, I don't want to hear it!" Harry stuck his fingers in his ears and turned to walk away. He stopped in his tracks and grabbed Draco's arm, nodding his head in the direction of a large sign in front of them. "What do you think? Think I stand a chance?"

Draco read the sign and burst into laughter. "I think there's something seriously wrong if you lose."

They migrated towards where people of all ages were signing up on a clipboard and looking up at a small stage. Draco stayed back in the crowd, his arms tucked into the pockets of his trousers, a confident smirk on his face. He was glad it was a "Best Harry Potter Look-alike" contest and not a Draco Malfoy one. No way would he parade up there and have others vote on whether or not he looked like himself.

But there was Harry, stepping out from behind a divider, dressed in robes that looked identical to his Gryffindor Quidditch uniform.

_Leave it to him to take it one step further just to win a silly contest._

The lineup was mostly young children under the age of ten and women older than him, Harry standing at the end in the very last spot. His hair was a mess, the fringe pushed back off his forehead to show off the bolt of lightning that dominated the right side of his forehead.

Hermione's assurance that they wouldn't need to conceal anything about themselves on this trip had proved correct. No one had batted an eye at either of them or stopped to ask Harry what happened to his face like they sometimes did. This was one of the easiest trips to Muggle London they'd had, and Draco wondered if it was because people thought they were also in costumes.

The host of the evening was going through the lineup and asking each person what their name and age was and to say a little something about their costume. Harry was grinning at Draco, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. He barely noticed when the host had made it through the group of people on stage and finally reached him.

"And what's your name?" the host asked, holding a microphone in front of Harry.

"Harry Potter," he replied with a large grin, not aware of his mistake.

The audience laughed and Draco brought his hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. He should have prepped Harry and given him a fake name. Maybe they weren't able to blend in as well as he thought.

"We're all Harry Potter tonight. What's your real name?"

Harry's grin faltered and he stuttered, likely trying to think of a fake name that the Muggles wouldn't know from the book series. "James… uh… James Black."

The host laughed again and shook his head. "Alright, James Black. I see you chose to dress like Quidditch Harry. It's a pretty authentic-looking costume. I'm impressed. Though, I must say that is quite the scar you gave yourself. It looks nothing like the scar Harry Potter has."

The crowd laughed again. _Shite, Harry was doing a piss poor job at blending in._ They should have just come here, bought the book, and left. Why were they getting involved in trivial Muggle activities like this?

"Alright everyone, time to vote for your favourite Harry Potter!" The host indicated to each contestant, letting the audience cheer and clap louder for their favourite.

The little boy in front of Harry, the youngest of the group, was swimming in his robes and glasses, yet the audience loved him. Draco rolled his eyes, knowing well and good that they were only cheering for the boy because he was the youngest. It was clear that Harry was not going to win, and Draco chuckled to himself.

"It looks like we have a winner!" The little boy's arm was raised and the crowd went wild.

Harry exited the stage and slipped back around the divider. When he returned wearing his Muggle clothing, a simple red shirt and jeans, his head was hanging low, bitterness in his eyes.

"I don't want to hear it, Malfoy," Harry said, holding his hand up to stop Draco before he could speak. "I want to get this book and go get a drink."

Draco clapped his friend on the back. "Oh, don't be so sour. I thought your scar was very authentic."

Grumbling, Harry moved through the crowd, Draco following close behind. The large clock on the wall that was counting down to the release of the new book had reached the one hour mark, prompting most people to start forming a queue behind the registers.

"Oh my god, you're a really good Draco Malfoy," giggled one girl as she passed Draco. She looked to be in her mid-teens and was ogling him like he was dessert.

"Uh, thanks?" he replied awkwardly.

The girl pulled her friend over to look at Draco. "Look at him! He's really pale and super blond. Don't you think he's the perfect Draco Malfoy?"

Growing uncomfortable at the attention from the young girls, Draco tried to shift away from them, only to realize he was now in the queue and had nowhere to go.

"Oh my _god_ , you are _so_ Draco Malfoy. Is that your natural hair?" the other girl said, curling a piece of her hair around a finger absentmindedly.

"Uhm, Harry?" Draco squeaked, nudging his friend. "Help me."

Harry turned and looked at the two girls staring dreamily at Draco. Rather than jump in and help him, Harry placed his hand on his Draco's shoulder and leaned in to stage whisper to the girls.

"Aren't his grey eyes just dreamy?"

Draco wanted to punch Harry more than he ever had before, and that was saying something.

The two girls nodded their heads quickly, opening their eyes wide as if that would help them get a better look.

"You were in the Harry Potter contest! You are definitely a real-life Drarry couple, aren't you?" said the first girl.

Draco looked to Harry, confused. He wasn't sure what this "Drarry" was or why he and Harry looked like one.

Cocking an eyebrow at the girls, he asked, "What's a Drarry?"

"Oh my god! It's the couple name for Draco and Harry! Drarry! And you two are totally a real-life Drarry."

The friend of the first girl's face lit up. "Oh my god, you are so right!"

Merlin, if Draco had to hear the phrase "oh my god" one more time he thought he might lose it. He'd beg Harry to _Avada_ him right there in the store. That would be a treat for the Muggles, certainly.

"We are not dating," Draco spat, hoping that the snark in his voice would be enough to drive the girls away. "We are not 'Drarry.'"

The first girl rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, you don't have to be so rude about it. It's a compliment."

"Yeah," agreed her friend. "We both totally believe that Draco and Harry will end up together. They're so in love with each other. Why else would they spend so much time bugging each other?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe they end up as good mates?"

"Nope," replied one girl. "It's destiny or something. You'll see."

The two girls linked arms and walked away, leaving Draco and Harry alone to mill over their words.

"Get your hand off me, mate," Draco snapped, shaking Harry's hand off his shoulder. "And step away."

Harry burst out laughing. "Scared to be near me, Malfoy? Did the young girls strike a nerve?"

"I do not love you!"

The store silenced at Draco's outburst, every head turning to stare at him. He felt a blush creep up his neck at the attention. Merlin, where was Hermione when he needed her? He resolved never to leave the house without her again.

And definitely not alone with Potter.

* * *

It had been a quiet evening for Hermione. With Draco out of the house, she was able to focus on practising her upcoming presentation to the Minister and didn't have to worry about bothering him with her consistent repetition. She finished twenty minutes before Draco was due home, so she changed into a mid-thigh nightshirt and curled up on the sofa with a blanket and a book, waiting to hear about his night.

She wanted to go to the release with them, she really did. But the idea of walking into another bookstore and seeing people dressed up in cloaks and robes had her seething. If it weren't for the fact that the books were so well-written, and that she was absolutely captivated by the story — her story — she wouldn't have made Draco buy her the book at all.

The quiet crack of Apparition sounded from the backyard and she looked up, waiting for Harry and Draco to join her in the sitting room.

"How was your evening?" she asked when they approached.

"Enlightening." Draco tossed her a plastic bag with the new book in it. "Did you know that Harry here does not look like Harry Potter?"

Pressing her lips together to suppress a laugh, she pulled the book from the bag, admiring the glossy cover and beautiful artwork. The image of a yellow and orange Phoenix rose from the burning flames below, its mouth opening as if to sing. A Phoenix certainly wasn't what she would have used to visualize their fifth year, though it was the first time any of them had heard of the Order.

"Well if you're going to tell her about that, you might as well skip to my favourite part," Harry added, his face lit with a mischievous grin.

"No! I told you, we are never speaking of that again," Draco said, his voice stern.

"Oh, come on, Draco. It's hilarious!"

"Potter, I swear if you don't shut up about that I will lock you out of my house, and my liquor cabinet, forever."

Harry, who looked as if he'd been properly scolded, sat down in the chair across the room. He looked at Hermione and mouthed for her to ask.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Draco, just tell me what happened. It can't be any worse than when I went to the book signing."

Having already poured — and finished — a glass of firewhisky, Draco sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "A couple of young girls thought that Harry and I were… were…" he shuddered.

"They thought we were dating. Merlin, it's not that hard to say."

Hermione choked out a laugh at the thought of Draco and Harry dating. "Why on earth would they think that?"

Shaking his head, Draco paced across the room. "Apparently, in the books, _not_ in real life, we have chemistry or some shite."

Another wave of laughter hit her and, at Draco's glare in her direction, she tried to cover it as a cough. "Love, it was a couple of children. It's not a big deal."

"Oh, but there's more!" Harry giggled like a young girl. "The person who ran the faulty 'Harry Potter Look-alike' contest saw us together and gave us each a free book voucher for our very convincing Drarry costume. Apparently we shouldn't have worn our house colours." He motioned to his red shirt and Draco's green and white striped one.

"Free books! That's wonderful! There really is no better prize than free books," she said with a grin.

Draco turned and narrowed his eyes at her. "That's what you took from all this? Free books?"

Nodding her head quickly, her grin spread across her face further. "Draco, if this is your way of telling me that you're leaving me for Harry, then I think I'll be alright with that. You _do_ make a lovely couple."

Stalking towards her, his eyes darkening, Draco stopped and placed his hands on the back of the sofa, leaning over her.

"Potter," he said without looking at the man. "I need to remind my wife that she's mine. Get out of my house before you see something you don't want to."

Harry stood up and quickly moved to the fireplace. "Goodnight, Hermione, Draco."

A flash of green light lit the room behind Draco before silence fell. He remained in his position, gazing down at her with his pupils blown wide. She felt her heart rate accelerate, her blood pumping through her veins.

"Hermione," he whispered, his voice low.

Arousal pooled deep in her belly at his tone and she ran her tongue over her lips. "Yes, Draco?"

"Do I need to prove to you that I'm not running away with Potter?"

"I think it might help," she whispered, her body warming from breathing in his intoxicating scent.

He leaned forward, kissing her hard. Pressing her tongue to the seam of his lips, she pushed forward, drinking in the taste of firewhisky on his breath. The distance between them closed when he moved his hands down to her arse and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his torso.

Never breaking the kiss, he moved them so she was pressed up to the wall. With her knickers soaked, she ground her hips on him, feeling the hard pressure of his cock against her sex. His mouth moved from hers, licking and biting along her jaw and neck, sucking at the sensitive spot below her ear. She moaned loudly, her pelvis rolling, craving friction.

His hips held her tight against the wall as he tugged his shirt over his head, grabbing the hem of her nightshirt and pulling it off as well. Her bare nipples grazed his chest with each inhale, the small buds hardening at the contact.

Draco's lips met hers again, pulling the air from her lungs and leaving her breathless. She ran her hands along his biceps, clinging to him for support, aching for more of his touch.

"Draco," she moaned when his mouth moved to lick one of the sensitive peaks. "Draco, more."

Moving his hand from her arse, he brought a thumb to press against the apex of her thighs, rubbing against the lace and driving her wild. She could feel the beginning of an orgasm bloom inside her and wanted more, needed more, craved more.

He pushed the lace aside, letting his thumb run along her slit before teasing her clit with a too gentle touch. She moved her hips against his thumb, creating friction and begging for a release. Two long fingers glided inside her, coaxing her closer to the edge.

"I'm so close, don't stop," she breathed, feeling the pressure on her clit harden.

His mouth moved from her breast, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses against her skin, his thumb and fingers moving faster, harder. She could feel her climax on the tip of her tongue, building with each staggered breath.

She was so focused on the feeling of ecstasy growing inside her that she didn't notice he had vanished the remainder of his clothing. His fingers slid out of her, replaced by the pressure of the tip of his cock.

Pulling back to see her face, he thrust into her, sending her over the edge with a loud scream. Her eyes closed and her back arched, continuing to grind her hips against his, feeling his hard length fill her. His mouth covered hers, silencing her cries of his name with his tongue.

Hermione came down from her orgasm, shaking slightly at the overwhelming sensation. Her body moulded to his, every inch touching, chests rising in tandem with quick breaths.

"Can you stand?" he groaned against her shoulder, his hands gripping her arse tighter.

Nodding her head, she mumbled a response. He eased his cock out of her, sliding her to the floor, leaving her empty and wanting. Her sensitive nipples dragged along his chest, tightening at the pressure. Draco turned her around, pressing her arse against him, his hands roaming up her sides and cupping her breasts.

He turned them around and pushed her gently towards the sofa, one hand on her lower back. "Lean over," he whispered in her ear, his hand bending her forward at the waist.

With her backside high in the air, Hermione placed her arms over the side of the sofa, her hands clinging to one of the throw pillows. Breathing deeply, she waited for Draco to touch her. Her cunt throbbed from her climax and his light teasing. Knowing he hadn't come, knowing that their evening was far from over, only made her body crave him more.

Draco slid his palm between her legs, his fingers dipping in slightly between her folds. She moaned against the sofa, her hips wiggling against him. His free hand moved up her spine, sending shivers through her whole body, and grabbed a fistful of her curls.

"Oh gods, Draco, I need you."

Like the good husband he was, he moved his hand to grip her hips and sheathed himself inside her fully. Crying out his name, Hermione gripped the pillow in her hands, her legs threatening to buckle. She clenched her cunt around him, holding him in place while she adjusted to the new angle.

The hand in her hair tugged, pulling her head back so she was looking at him over her shoulder. His pupils were blown wide with arousal, and his chest and face gleamed with sweat. Standing there with his torso bare, scars exposed and shining, she had never been more physically attracted to him in her life. She wanted to lick every inch of him.

Pulling out except the tip, Draco dragged his thumb across her clit, rubbing quick, teasing circles. She let out a strangled breath and pushed her hips back into him, waiting for more. Begging him to fuck her, to make her scream.

His hand released her hair and moved to her hips, his nails digging into her flesh as he rocked back into her in a single thrust. The speed and pressure on her clit increased and her eyes squeezed shut at the feeling.

She thought she might combust. Stars floated behind her eyelids and a fire burned deep inside her. Her senses were heightened, every feeling a live wire, pleasure exploding from all over.

Draco held her steady, moving his hand from her cunt to her waist, thrusting into her faster and faster. Her climax felt like it would never end, his cock hitting just the right spot to make her cry out.

Warmth pooled inside her at his release, his quick hard pumps slowing to a stop. Exhaustion swept over Hermione and she sunk into the arm of the sofa, Draco's body folding over hers and holding her against him, his heavy breathing tickling her ear. He placed feather-soft kisses to her skin, licking and nipping.

She felt him pull out of her and they sunk to the floor in a sweaty heap of tangled limbs. Pushing her hair off her face, he stared longingly at her, love and lust filling his gaze.

"Still think I'm going to run off with Potter?" he asked quietly, smirking.

Hermione snorted delicately and shook her head. "I didn't until you took me from behind like that."

His eyes widening, Draco shifted his weight so he was hovering over her. "Take that back, witch."

She smiled at him innocently. "I think you may have to convince me a little more."

Closing the distance between them, he pressed his lips to hers. "In the morning. For tonight, I think I'd like to take my wife to bed and sleep."

"Tomorrow then. And the day after that, and the one after that, too."

"Deal."


	9. Chapter 9

**August 2003**

"I heard from Ron last week."

Harry's words pulling her from her thoughts, Hermione looked up from the salad she had been picking at, her appetite disappearing. Harry had been acting strange all week and it seemed she now knew why.

Things with Ron had been strained the past few years and she wasn't sure how to handle that. He had stayed in Scotland when she and Harry returned to London after their eighth year. It had been easy enough to visit at first, but then everyone's careers took off and travelling, even by Portkey, had become difficult.

Biting her lip, she nervously asked, "Oh, how is he?"

Harry shrugged. "You know how it is up there during the summer. He'd rather be in London."

She pushed a tomato around in the bowl. "Of course. It's a shame they won't let him come home when things are quiet. Did he — How is—" She sighed and started over. "What did his letter say?"

"That he misses us, he hopes we're well," Harry said waving his fork in the air casually. "He wondered how you were. You've barely spoken since your wedding."

A heavy knot twisted in her stomach, made with the torn strands of friendship and coated with guilt. She had warred with herself over her past with Ron, knowing how much of it was her fault. Moving in with Draco, getting engaged, working her way up the ranks at the Ministry — she was getting everything she had ever wanted, never once stopping to check in on others.

"You should really go see him," Harry added.

"If he wanted to see me, he would say so."

"He did. He said he's written to you a few times and you haven't responded. Your friendship with Ron has always been… uneasy, but you work through your fights. You just need to talk to him."

Nodding her head, she groaned, "Alright, I'll write him a letter."

Harry stood and picked up his cafeteria tray. "You know you need to do better than that."

Left alone with a half-eaten salad and no appetite, Hermione ran through the events of the past few years. It felt like yesterday that they were still in school, still sneaking through the halls to hide from Filch or Snape.

Draco would tell her to go. She was certain even he had visited with Ron a few times, and their friendship had never been perfect. If Draco and Ron, the ultimate pair of oil and water, could still find time to talk, then surely she could get over herself and visit him too.

* * *

Late August in Hogsmeade was typically quiet. While shops were stocking inventory for the students who would soon return and visit the village on weekends, the local residents were enjoying some final days of peace. It took a few years after the war for the village to recover, but when it did, it doubled in size.

Many of Hogwarts graduates chose to open shops on the main road, catering to what they knew the students would want or need. There was a new pub for sixth and seventh years only, a coffee shop that reminded Hermione of a popular Muggle chain, and a hobby store for those who wanted to do something with their spare time that was safer than Quidditch. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had even opened a secondary location after the success of their first one, filling the void left behind when Zonko's closed during the war.

Bells jingled overhead when Hermione opened the door to her favourite coffee shop in Hogsmeade. Celestina Warbeck's latest album was quietly playing while a few patrons sat and enjoyed their drinks in peace. It was such a different atmosphere than when the students were around.

"Hermione! Good to see you! How can I help you today?" the owner, Hannah Abbott, greeted with a cheery smile.

"A coffee to go please, and a few pastries."

Hannah nodded her head and busied herself behind the counter, preparing the order. "What brings you up to the village today?"

"Off to visit Ron. I thought it would be good to come and see him before the students return and he gets busy again. I'm sure you know what that's like."

Placing the coffee and a paper bag stuffed with small baked goods in front of her, Hannah tapped her wand against the register. "That'll be two Galleons, and I tossed some extra in there for you to take home to Draco. I know how much he loves the chocolate croissants."

Hermione handed over the Galleons with a laugh. "You have no idea. He's been trying to get me to make them but he says I muck it up every time. Any chance you could send me the recipe?"

"Absolutely! I'll owl it over this weekend," Hannah said with a grin. "You should pop in and see Neville while you're here. He'd love the company."

"Of course! I've been meaning to ask him for more plants for the garden."

Taking her items and saying goodbye to Hannah, Hermione left the shop and made her way through the village, basking in the late summer sun.

Following the long stone path, she steeled her nerves. She hadn't written to Ron, opting instead to surprise him, just in case she changed her mind and decided not to visit this particular weekend. But with limited time before school started again, Draco reminded her that if she didn't visit now, it would likely be Christmas before she could see Ron again.

The large door closed softly behind her and she made her way up the steps. He was sitting in his usual spot, talking to a young boy, his blue eyes gleaming with joy. This was where he was meant to be; somewhere he could help others, tell stories, and just be himself.

Ron was leaning forward, his voice low and serious, "She was ten feet tall, pure white, and ruthless. Without a second thought, _bam!_ She blew him to pieces! No one dared get in her way."

"Except for you?" the boy asked excitedly, bouncing in place.

Nodding his head, Ron continued, "Except for Knight Ronald, King Harry, and Princess Hermione. Only those three were brave enough to stand up to the Queen's force."

"Knight Ronald is too generous. King Harry and Princess Hermione would have never survived if it weren't for the brave knight's fast thinking," Hermione interrupted, approaching the pair.

Ron's eyes lifted from the young boy he was talking to, a bright smile instantly taking over his features.

"'Mione," he greeted, shocked. "I wasn't expecting to see you today."

"Surprise?" she said with a nervous laugh. Perhaps this hadn't been the best idea.

The little boy looked up at Hermione with large blue eyes. " _The_ Hermione? _The_ Princess Hermione? You rode on a dragon and destroyed a Horcrux and discovered the monster in the Chamber of Secrets! You're so cool!"

Unable to control herself at the boy's excitement, she laughed. It had been a while since she had been recognised like that. Most people in wizarding London were used to seeing her out and about and the fame had worn off. Attention like this may have bothered her at one point, but now, seeing the excitement in this young boy's face, she couldn't help but feel proud of what she and her friends had done.

"Thank you. But truly, I couldn't have done it without my friends. If it weren't for Ron, Harry, or Draco, I wouldn't have been able to do any of those exciting things."

Ron leaned over and whispered loudly to the boy, "She's too modest. We'd still be out hunting Horcruxes if not for her."

"Wow!"

"Do you mind giving us a minute?" Ron asked the boy, gesturing his head to the side.

"Bye, Princess Hermione!" The boy smiled and waved excitedly before retreating, leaving her and Ron alone.

Settling in on the bench across from Ron, Hermione pulled a scone out of the bag and tilted the opening towards her friend. "Want one?"

He shook his head and held up a muffin. "You know I always have snacks."

"Who is that?" she asked, picking apart the pastry.

Ron took a large bite of his muffin, crumbs falling down his shirt. "Simon, one of the local's boy. Just turned eleven. He's a good kid, likes to come visit quite a bit."

"He reminds me of you. I think it's the eyes, so expressive. He'd make a great Gryffindor, I can tell."

"He would fit right in, that's for sure," Ron agreed. "He loves the stories, and who am I to ignore a willing audience?"

"How many times have you told that story now? Must be thousands," she asked with a smirk.

He tossed his head back in laughter, his cheeks growing rosy. "To this day, that's the best game of chess I've ever played. I helped bring down a dark wizard by playing a massive game of chess, who else can say that?"

"Only you, Ronald Bilius Weasley. One of a kind."

"The Department of Mysteries story does quite well too with the other kids, though I don't know if Simon's ready for it. Maybe in a few years…"

Hermione nodded her head absently. "He's a bit young. Merlin, I think most of our adventures are probably too much for most children, and yet we were barely older than Simon when it was happening."

Silence floated between them as they ate their food. Hermione admired the way Ron's eyes contained the same light they had when they were eleven, noticing the crinkles in the corners from smiling so much.

"So—"

"How's—"

"No, you first—"

"Sorry—"

Laughing, Hermione motioned for Ron to speak first.

"Thanks," he said, mouth full of muffin. "How're things?"

Hermione nodded her head, picking away at pieces of her pastry. "They're going well. I'm heading the Auror's research team now. I only have one report so far, but they say next summer when there's a new batch of Hogwarts grads I can hire one or two. And Draco's law firm is doing really well. He was worried that no one would want an ex Death Eater as their lawyer, but it turns out that when you're on your way to Azkaban, you're not too picky about who represents you. Oh, and Ginny is first string on the Harpies, though I'm sure she's told you that. She and Harry are both doing really well. I imagine we'll see some babies not too far in the future and—"

"'Mione."

"—I know your mum has been driving Ginny batty about grandchildren. Apparently three isn't nearly enough. Little Victoire is doing so well! She's shown her first bit of—"

"Hermione."

"—accidental magic. Gave your mum a heart attack when she broke all the windows over a melted ice cream cone. It was really quite a sight. And then there's Charlie! He—"

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, finally getting her attention. "Breathe."

She laughed nervously, pulling at the hem of her dress, blushing. "Sorry, I was rambling, wasn't I?"

"You? Ramble? I've never heard you ramble a day in your life," he said with a goofy grin.

Tossing a piece of scone at him, she took a deep breath and started over. "I'm sorry. I just feel awful for not coming to see you for so long. I know we can write letters, but it's not nearly the same. I feel like a shite friend."

"It's alright 'Mione. We're all grown up. We don't have to see each other every day." She nodded her head, head cast down at her lap. "That's really exciting about your work. Are you still planning on taking over the Ministry, one rank at a time?"

Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, Hermione shrugged. "I think so. But then again, I really love researching and I know if I move up much more I'll just be signing forms and assigning the work I really want to do to someone else."

"Tough balance. What does Malfoy think?"

"You know I'm a Malfoy now too, don't you? You remember my wedding?" she teased, holding up her left hand and letting her rings shine in the light. "Draco wants me to do whatever will make me happy. I'm just not sure what that is."

Ron nodded, picking up a second muffin and pulling it apart. "You mentioned last year that there were books written about Harry? The Muggle ones? What happened to those?"

She looked up to find him staring at her, his head propped up on his hands, leaning forward. He looked like Simon had, intent on hearing the latest adventure story about Princess Hermione.

"Well, I'm no further in finding out how the author got our stories. I met her though, last summer. She didn't go to school at the same time as us, that's for sure. I think she might even be older than Bill."

"What happened when you met her? Did you threaten to hex her? Was Ginny there? I bet she would have thrown a great Bat-Bogey Hex at the woman!"

Light laughter filled the air at the thought of the mysterious author running around a bookshop full of Muggles with a mucus bat coming out of her nose. That certainly would have put the horrid woman in her place, especially after everything she'd said about Draco. That might also get Ginny arrested and sent to Azkaban, though…

"Thankfully I was on my own. She spoke so confidently about the books and our story, and it really made me wonder how she'd heard any of it. None of it makes any sense."

Ron looked down at the remains of his muffin and rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. "Any chance she's an Animagus? What if she's like Skeeter and was listening to us the whole time?"

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I've thought about that. There's so much about Harry's life before Hogwarts and during the summers. I just don't know how she would be able to get so much information…"

"And still get so much wrong? Didn't you say that Draco is our enemy through all school years?"

"Yes! I truly don't understand that. He was such a large part of our lives for most of our time at Hogwarts," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I mean, except for the obvious…"

"Have you tried to reach out to Skeeter? I know you say it's not her, but you have to admit that she's got a knack for learning secrets."

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Ron. These books… I don't know what would happen if Skeeter got her hands on them. Remember all the articles she wrote? They were full of lies. I can only imagine the articles she would write if she thought these books were fact."

Ron shuddered and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Merlin, our lives would be a nightmare."

"Not to mention, that poor Muggle woman! I'm sure Skeeter would track her down for trying to rip off her work. It would be a horrid scandal for Muggles and wizards alike."

"I'd like to see the Ministry try and cover that up," Ron said with a snort.

"Me too. There was another book released a few weeks ago. It takes place during our fifth year and it's just…" Hermione trailed off and shook her head. "There's so much she got wrong."

Tipping his head to the side, he eyed her curiously. "Like what? Umbridge was awful and Voldemort returned. How do you mess that up?"

"Well, Draco for starters. Because we never become friends with him in third year, he's closer to what Theo Nott was like. It's almost as if Rowling just switched Draco's name with Theo's."

"I can't imagine Malfoy's taken that too well."

Hermione let out a laugh. "He was very quiet. He keeps saying he doesn't want to read them or know what's been written about him, but he can't help himself. He got almost no sleep the first few days we had the book because he was up late reading." Her eyes dropped to her lap, sadness filling her. "I hate that his story isn't being told. He deserves to be included as much as the rest of us."

Ron was silent, but she knew he was just letting her process things before speaking. For all the times they had butted heads, he had matured after the war. Full-time work could do that to a person.

"The wizarding world knows what Draco is like, and you said earlier that they've begun to trust him. What does it matter what some clueless Muggles think of him?"

"Those 'clueless Muggles' take these books rather seriously. They're very passionate about what's written and what they think is going to come next. It's as if this woman has given them the key to a whole new world that they can play in, and I hate that so much of it is a lie." Hermione paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself so her magic didn't react. She thought of Sarah, a child who had the nerves to stand up to an adult.

"You should go talk to Bill if you think there's a chance they went to school together."

She nodded her head in agreement and gave Ron a soft smile. "Thank you, Ron. I know I haven't been the best of friends, but I really appreciate that you're still willing to be here for me like this."

"Where am I going to go, 'Mione?" he asked with a playful gleam to his eyes.

The large door creaked open, a gust of wind blowing into the room.

Neville strode over to where Hermione and Ron were, standing beside the bench she was sitting on. "Hey, Hannah mentioned you might be here. I thought I'd come say hi before you left."

Hermione patted the seat beside her. "Hey Simon," she called, catching the young boy's attention. "Have you heard the story about Sir Neville the Brave?"

Simon rushed back over, moving close to Ron, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. "Can you tell it?" he asked Hermione.

"Of course." She straightened her back and looked at Simon. "The skies were grey and all hope in the kingdom was gone. The King was dead and everyone feared the evil sorcerer, who was greedy for power. Legend said the sorcerer had six magical items that kept him in power. All but one had been destroyed. The snake. The sorcerer's most prized companion…"

She continued her story, watching as Simon gasped and cheered in all the right places. A warmth spread through Hermione when she saw how much enjoyment the child got just from hearing the tale. This was why Ron loved what he did. He had the ability to tell their tales and remind people of all the great heroes that fought and fell. No one was forgotten. Their stories continued on.

"Wow," Simon said breathlessly as their story came to an end. "Will you come back soon and tell another?"

"Of course," Hermione said with a grin. "I really should get going. I know Draco is going to be wondering where I am."

"It was great to see you, 'Mione. Don't be such a stranger, alright?" Ron said with his classic smile, eyes squinting in the corners.

Saying goodbye and grabbing the empty coffee cup and bag stuffed with pastries for Draco, she left with Neville. She had spent nearly four hours with Ron, telling stories and catching up. He shared the village gossip with her and listened intently as she talked about Ginny's Quidditch games, even though she messed up the names of half the plays.

Neville led the way through Hogsmeade, taking Hermione back to the Apparition point. "We should have you and Draco up for dinner some time. I know Hannah misses cooking for guests."

"Of course. Send me an owl after school starts and we can arrange to come up one weekend when you aren't as busy."

The pair hugged goodbye and Hermione Apparated straight to Shell Cottage, hoping that Bill and Fleur would be up for visitors. She was focused on finding out the mystery behind J.K. Rowling and didn't want to waste any more time.

* * *

Hermione had been gone most of the afternoon, and as dinner time approached, Draco worried that something had gone wrong. Perhaps her visit with Ron hadn't gone as well as he had hoped. Had he pushed her too hard to go see him?

Just as he was preparing to send his Patronus out to find her, the sound of a Floo call rang through the home. Making his way over to the fireplace in the sitting room, he found Bill Weasley's face staring at him.

"Draco, hi mate. Hermione just popped in for dinner. Care to join?"

"She's at Shell Cottage?" Draco ran through their conversation that morning in his head. There had been no mention of her visiting Bill and Fleur when they spoke earlier. "Sure, I'll be right there."

The call ended and Draco waited a few moments before stepping through to Bill's home. He and Hermione had been there a few times since the end of the war, but it didn't change the strange feelings he had when he was there. The memories from the war were like spider webs in the corner of the room. They never seemed to go away — even if you cleared them out, they would return the next day, a glittering thread taunting you.

Sitting at the table with little Victoire in her lap, Hermione grinned at the child and asked her what her favourite books were. The girl babbled on about something or other, and Hermione's face was glowing the entire time. It stirred something deep in Draco to see her like this.

"Hello, love," he said, interrupting the conversation. "Is everything alright?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "As I've told both Fleur and Bill already, yes, everything is fine. I wanted to talk to Bill about something and they invited us to dinner."

"And we're very happy to have you," Fleur said genuinely. She took Victoire from Hermione's lap and set her in a highchair at the end of the table.

Bill sent plates full of roast chicken and potatoes over to the table and then joined the group. Victoire immediately dug in using her tiny hands, a happy squeal peeling through the home when potatoes mashed in her fists. Fleur stepped over to help her daughter, motioning for the others not to wait.

"So what was it you wanted to ask, Hermione?" Bill said after a few minutes.

"Has anyone told you about the Muggle books about our lives at Hogwarts?" When Bill shook his head no, Hermione continued telling him about how they discovered them and all of the information she had gathered over the past two years.

"While I was talking to Ron today, he suggested I come and talk to you about this since there's a chance you might have gone to school with the author."

"What did you say her name was?" Bill asked.

"J.K. Rowling. I still don't know what the two letters stand for."

He set down his knife and fork, leaning back in his chair to think. Draco watched as the man looked off in the distance, as if he were going through all the students he used to see in the Great Hall.

"Rowling doesn't ring a bell. If we knew the first names, it might be easier. Rowling could be her married name."

"She wasn't wearing a ring when I saw her last summer, so I don't think she's married."

"Is there a chance that she does not wear a ring?" Fleur asked in her thick French accent.

Hermione pondered the idea. "I suppose. We did have a neighbour growing up, Mrs. Taylor. She was divorced and didn't change her name back afterwards… I hadn't even thought of that."

Reaching over, Draco weaved his fingers through hers. The frustration that had so often riddled her features was back; her brow was furrowed, creating a pucker on her forehead, and the corners of her mouth turned down slightly.

"We'll figure it out."

She gave him a forced smile, her features softening slightly.

When dinner was finished, Hermione and Draco took Victoire into the sitting room to play, giving Fleur and Bill some time to themselves before it was bedtime.

Draco was sitting on the rug in the middle of the room, holding a plush dragon in one hand and a princess doll in the other. Hermione sat across from him with Victoire in her lap, both of them listening intently to the story he was telling.

"And the dragon took a deep breath—" he inhaled for dramatic effect "—and then he blew fire out of his nose, like this." Exhaling through his nose, he shook the plush dragon, making Victoire giggle.

"The princess took her magic wand and cast a spell on the dragon, turning him into a small toad and saving all of her subjects. The End."

Both Victoire and Hermione clapped and cheered while he made the toys take a bow for their captive audience. Fleur made her way into the living room and crouched next to her daughter.

"Time for bed, little princess," she said, holding her arms open for the little girl to climb into.

After saying their goodbyes, Draco and Hermione made their way home, collapsing on the sofa the minute they stepped through the Floo.

"You're really good with her," Hermione said, snuggling up to him.

"She's easy to be around. Doesn't fuss the way I imagine most children do."

"You mean like our future children?"

Draco's jaw dropped. "What do you mean 'our children'? Our children will be perfect."

Letting out a loud laugh, she readjusted herself so that she was looking at him. "Draco, I love you, but there is no way you were an easy child. Remember what you were like in first and second year? And fourth year when I didn't talk to you because you were being stubborn?"

He pouted, knowing she was right. His mother had frequently reminded him that he had been fussy, unable to sleep through a night, and once he learned how to speak, incredibly demanding. He would cry insatiably until she held him and read him a book.

"Besides," Hermione continued. "Even if you _were_ a perfect child, I certainly wasn't. We're going to be busy parents."

They had discussed having children before, but there was something about Hermione's face that made Draco question what she was saying.

"Do you not want children?"

"Of course I do!" She grabbed his face, her eyes switching back and forth between his. "Draco, I want to have children with you, I promise. I'm just not sure if I'm ready right now. We've only been married a year and I want to take advantage of every child-free second we have together."

He caught her lips between his, pressing into her softly. "Alright. But can we go practise first?"

"We've been _practising_ since we were teenagers. I have no intention of stopping that any time soon."

Scooping her up from the couch, he carried her to their bedroom, intent on listening to her words and enjoying every child-free second together. He had learned long ago to appreciate the time he had with those he loved, never knowing when it might be taken away.


	10. FLASHBACK: Fifth Year part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter deals with discussions and references to both child and spousal abuse. Please take care when reading this and feel free to reach out to me on Tumblr @breathofthephoenix if you have any questions about this before or after reading. 

**Fall 1995**

"That horrid woman. Can you believe her? Who does she think she is?" Granger paced next to their table in the back corner of the library. "She really thinks that we're going to learn how to do defencive magic by _reading_? I love reading and even I know that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"She's been sent by the Ministry. I'm sure you understand that we have worse things to worry about than some toad-like woman being yet another horrible defence teacher," Draco said, trying to reason with her to no avail.

Potter nodded his head, adding, "It's true. This is now our fifth DADA teacher, and really, we've only had one good one. Why couldn't Lupin stick around for another year?" He narrowed his eyes at Draco, clearly pointing out that it was Lucius' fault that Lupin had left.

Draco held up his hands in defence. "Hey! I merely mentioned to my father that Snape said one of our teachers was a puppy. I never specified _who_."

Granger stopped her pacing, standing in front of them with her hands on her hips. "We need a new teacher."

"Obviously," drawled Draco, scowling at the table. "But how the hell are we going to get a new teacher when this one is Ministry appointed? It's not like I can pull any family strings this time when I'm sure my father was already involved."

"Harry could teach us," Granger said simply. "He's one of the best in practical defensive magic and he already knows how to cast a Patronus."

Shaking his head, Potter gawked at her. "Hermione, have you not read the _Daily Prophet_ or heard what others have been saying? Seamus almost wasn't allowed back because his mum didn't trust him to be in the same room as me. What makes you think anyone will want me to teach them?"

"You're the best chance we've got. I'll take care of the logistics — you just need to plan the lessons."

"You're never getting out of doing this. Not once Granger sets her mind to something." Draco patted Potter on the shoulder and slid his chair back, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Granger demanded. "We have things to plan!"

He slid his hand under her chin and tilted it up so she was looking him in the eyes. He'd had another growth spurt over the summer, leaving him several inches taller than Granger. She pouted when she first saw him on the train, not pleased with the fact that all her male friends were beginning to tower over her.

"Just have to take care of something Snape asked me to do for him. I'll meet you back here tonight." Leaning down and brushing his lips against hers, he felt her body melt into his.

Between classes, Quidditch tryouts, and planning for their O.W.L.s, Draco had barely spent any alone time with Granger. They would share brief kisses tucked away in the library and hold hands under the desks in class, not wanting to openly flaunt their relationship.

With a final gentle kiss to her lips, he slipped away, grabbing his bag and leaving Granger and Potter alone with their plans. Plans he knew he couldn't be a part of, much as he may want to. His father's wrath had gotten worse after the Dark Lord had returned. The papers wouldn't announce it, but Draco saw the way his father's tattoo had darkened and how he was rarely home.

_"Draco," his father said one mid-summer day. "I expect you to be on your best behaviour this year. Your new professor will be giving you chances to make our family proud. Do not let me down._ "

His words had stuck with him. The idea of making his father proud left a twisted feeling in his gut. He no longer wished to grow up and be his father. Instead, he found comfort in time spent with Granger, listening to the things she said about her own father and the ways he expressed love to her.

Ways that didn't hurt or leave marks.

Reaching the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Draco made his way up the steps to the office and knocked on the open door. "Professor Umbridge," he greeted the short and stumpy professor. "Professor Snape said you wished to meet with me?"

"Ah yes, young Mr. Malfoy. Please have a seat." She gestured to the pink chair in front of her.

The whole room was covered in pink and smelled like stale perfume. He wanted to gag.

"I'm sure you've noticed how Hogwarts has declined in recent years. The Ministry has sent me here to ensure that the quality of its magical education gets back to where it once was. Headmaster Dumbledore has done an… adequate job, of course. However, the Ministry feels there is more work to be done in order for Hogwarts to, once again, become the best wizarding school in Europe."

Umbridge placed a cup of tea in front of him and motioned for him to take a sip. He lifted the cup to his mouth but didn't drink any, not trusting the horrid woman not to try and poison him.

"Your father has ensured the Ministry that the Malfoy family is ready and able to assist in whatever is needed. Would you agree, Mr. Malfoy?"

His stomach twisted into more knots and he felt a lump rise in his throat. Checking that his mask was in place and that the walls his mother had begun to teach him about were holding strong, he straightened his spine. "Yes, of course. My father has always been very open about ensuring that Hogwarts provides the best education to its students."

The toad flashed him a fake smile. She was playing a game as much as he was, though he wasn't sure what game they were playing. "You're so much like your father. I must say, I can barely see any of your mother in you. That's a good thing." She winked at him.

He wanted to punch her. Not even something magical. Just a classic Muggle punch to her face. How dare she insult his mother? How dare she act as if she had half an idea of who his father was? Did no one realise who Lucius Malfoy really was?

"And since you are so much like your father," she continued. "I know that you will be so very willing to help me make Hogwarts the best school it can be. Isn't that right, Draco?"

His father's strong hand flashed through his mind and he could feel the pain and fear settling into his bones. "Of course," he agreed, trying to force the memories into the back of his mind.

She motioned her wand to one of the drawers in her desk and levitated a shiny badge in front of him. _Inquisitorial Squad_. "This is the highest honour I can award a student, Mr. Malfoy, and it's yours. Your father will be so proud."

_Don't let me down._

Feeling as if his ability to decide were gone, Draco reached for the badge, plucking it from the air and turning it over in his hand.

"Wonderful. Your first task is to ensure that Harry Potter and his friends are following the rules. Can you do that, Draco?"

His own friends. His own friends who, at this very moment, were planning all sorts of different ways to break the rules. The lump in his throat grew in size, threatening to cut off his airways. The pressure of being a Malfoy and doing what he was supposed to weighed down on him, tugging him away from his girlfriend and friends.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I can't."

* * *

She missed this, missed the feeling being in his arms and having his lips against hers. The summer without him had been torture after spending every day with him while in school. They found excuses to meet up in Diagon Alley and slip away for stolen moments together, but it was rushed. It wasn't like this, when he could hold her close and she would feel like she was home.

Pressed against the side of The Hog's Head, Hermione joined her hands behind his neck, standing on her toes and bringing her lips to his. Malfoy had pulled her aside after she left the meeting with Harry and Ron, wrapping his arm around her waist and taking her out of view from the others.

"I missed you," he whispered against her cheek, his lips peppering kisses between words.

"You should have been there with us." She dropped from the balls of her feet, creating distance and allowing herself to look him in the eyes. "I don't know why you can't join us."

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Remember that thing Snape asked me to do? It was a meeting with Umbridge."

Dropping her hands to her sides, Hermione watched him uncertainly. "What are you talking about? Why were you meeting with Umbridge? What did she want?"

"Come on," Malfoy said, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the alley. "Let's go somewhere else and talk."

They walked quietly back up to the school, heading in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. Malfoy led them up one of the stands, finding a spot for them out of sight from the castle.

He looked out over the pitch, his mind elsewhere. "Umbridge is trying to fix Hogwarts' status and improve our scores or some shite. My father promised her that the Malfoys would be there to support the Ministry and Hogwarts in whatever way is needed. And since Umbridge is here for both the Ministry _and_ Hogwarts, she wanted me to help her. I refused but..."

"But what?"

He sighed and looked away, his face angled so she couldn't see it properly. "He won't be happy."

"I'm sure your father will understand. Maybe you can help him see how awful she is."

Shaking his head, he continued, "He wouldn't believe me. He'd say that I'm ungrateful for everything he's given me and that I need to be a better heir. Not even son. I'm just his _heir_. How fucked up is that?"

"What about your mother?" Hermione asked.

Malfoy barked out a bitter laugh and scowled. She hadn't seen him like this in years — so disgusted by something she had said.

"Granger, you don't get it. My mother and I… we have to do what he says. He – he controls everything."

She placed her hand over his, squeezing tightly. "What do you mean?"

"Do you really believe I would have hidden you all this time if I had a choice? I know you think that it's just because my father would be upset, but it's so much more."

He pulled his hand from hers and lifted the side of his shirt, exposing his ribs. White and pink marks covered him, all different sizes and shapes. Even at a quick glance, she could tell some were newer than others, raised and still a reddish pink. Her hand instinctively reached up to touch the angriest looking one, her finger gently tracing the harsh line that stretched across several ribs.

"These are just the ones that left permanent marks," he explained, pulling his shirt back down. "He gives me bruise paste for marks on my face. Said he can't have his heir walking around looking less than perfect. He has no problems with the things clothing can hide."

Trying not to cry or make this worse for him, Hermione shifted closer and wrapped her arms around Malfoy. Doubled over, he felt smaller than normal, a size reminiscent of a first year. Her heart ached for him.

"We have to do something. I can't just let you continue going through this. Does your mother know?"

His body rose with a humourless laugh. "Of course she knows. This happens to her, too. He cares about appearance and maintaining our place in the world. He'll do whatever it takes to keep things that way — always the perfect image."

Hermione closed her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder. She didn't know what to say or do, except continue to hold him close. For all the times that he made her feel safe and protected, it was her turn to return the favour.

After a few minutes of silence, Malfoy spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to join the group, I do. But I know if my father found out—" His voice broke. "He's already going to be furious. I don't know what he would do to my mother if he found out that I'd also joined a secret club with a bunch of Gryffindors."

"Then I'll teach you."

Malfoy sat up and looked at her, his eyes moving between hers, trying to read her face.

"Whatever Harry teaches us, I'll teach you after. We're still looking for a place to meet, but once we have that, I'll stay longer and meet you afterwards. You need to know how to defend yourself just as much as the rest of us."

She wasn't expecting him to crush his lips to hers, or for him to pull her into his lap, her legs braced on either side of his hips. Her heart raced as his hands slid down her back and slipped under the jumper, his cold palms causing her to shiver.

Holding him close, her tongue moving with his, she ran her hands through his hair. He had stopped styling it harshly this year and she was thankful there was no gel or potion to fight with, just silky locks running through her fingers.

"I don't deserve you," he mumbled against her lips. He moved his hands down her back and cupped her arse. She could feel the slight pressure of his arousal pressed against the apex of her thighs.

Breaking the kiss, Hermione rested her forehead against his, their breath mingling between them in the cool air. Draco's eyes remained closed, but she could see the pain in his face. He was trying so hard to remain calm and collected.

"Draco," she whispered, consciously using his given name for the first time. "You don't have to be strong for me. You deserve happiness and love as much as anyone I know, maybe even more."

The first tear slid down his cheek and she gently brushed it away with her thumb. His head fell forward and burrowed in her neck, his body shaking gently. She cradled him against her, stroking the back of his head and murmuring that it would be okay, that she would be there.

Harry had told her and Ron about his life with Dursleys — the hunger, the loneliness, the emotional abuse. He had grown up with no one to hold him, to sing to him, to show him any form of love beyond the vague memories he had of his parents. But in all of that, neither of his guardians had ever laid a hand on him.

Barely able to understand how someone could neglect a child like the Dursleys had, she struggled even more with what Draco was telling her. How could someone parent a child, be there when they were born and watch them grow up, only to physically and emotionally harm them?

It made her stomach churn. She wanted to help Draco, to make sure that he was never left without a defence. If it was the last thing she did, she would ensure that Lucius Malfoy paid for what he did to his son and wife.

* * *

_Flying around the Manor. Seeing Hogwarts for the first time. Becoming friends with Granger. Beating Weasley in chess._

_Kissing Granger._

His happiest memories floated to the forefront of Draco's mind, playing like a picture in front of him. Each memory was full of colour and light and love.

"Open your eyes," Granger whispered breathlessly.

It was their last time meeting before Christmas Hols and they were going over all the spells Potter had been teaching Dumbledore's Army. Draco had been picking up the spells with ease, rolling his eyes at the fact that others hadn't yet perfected _Expelliarmus_. Granger was confident that he would have no problem casting a full Patronus and continued to badger him about it until he gave in and tried.

Nothing but faint white wisps emerged from his wand, fading into the air around them. Just when he wanted to give up, she would kiss him and remind him that he was worthy of happiness. She would give him a reason to smile.

His heart raced, wondering what shape his Patronus would take. Would it be a dragon like his namesake? Or perhaps a snake like on his family crest? Merlin, as long as it wasn't a fucking ferret.

Afraid of what was in front of him, Draco cracked open a single eye. Bright bluish white light glowed between them before moving away and out of sight.

With both eyes now fully opened, he watched as the large animal moved around the two of them, creating an ethereal looking circle. Granger looked on at the creature in awe, following its movements around the room.

Turning on the spot to follow the creature, he took in its large shape. The way it stalked forward on four paws, the long tail, the shaggy mane. It opened its mouth and made the motions of a loud roar.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked, shocked.

Granger burst out laughing. "It's a lion. Haven't you ever heard of those?"

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to face her, the lion moving to circle them again. "I know what a lion is," he drawled. "I'm asking why the fuck _my_ Patronus is a lion. I'm not a Gryffindor. Where's my dragon? Or a snake? I want a redo."

She raised her wand and cast the same spell, her eyes never leaving his. The same wisp of magic shot into the air, a smaller lion forming from the mist without the large mane. The two lions greeted each other, Granger's immediately pushing its face against the larger one.

Dumfounded, he looked from the lions back to her, then back again. "They're the same? What does that mean?"

Her voice was low, barely above a whisper. "Harry's parents had matching Patronuses."

"But they – and we – do you – Shite… Is this some soulmate thing?"

"I wouldn't rule out the possibility."

Their Patronuses shimmered and disappeared, leaving them alone, the room feeling emptier. He walked towards her, his hand reaching out and clasping around hers. Pulling her close, their bodies pressed together and he crushed his lips to hers.

His hands wandered down her body, curving against her hips and waist, moving to cup her arse.

She sighed into him, her mouth opening enough for him to enter, their tongues tangling clumsily. Her hands clasped behind his neck, holding his face close.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers. "Granger, are we soulmates?"

"I think so."

Overcome with emotions and possibilities, Draco brought his lips back to hers. He lifted her up, feeling her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, holding her warm core to him.

He had thought of this countless times before bed — her legs wrapped tightly around him, his hands sliding under her skirt and feeling the dampness between her legs. He wanted to know how she felt, how she tasted, what she would sound like if he ran his tongue along her center.

There had been a sofa in the room earlier, something they had asked for when they needed a break from all the practice. Draco would be lying if he said he hadn't thought of all the things he could do to her there.

Holding her against him, their lips still moving together, he carried her over to the sofa. He deposited her on her back and hovered over her, watching her face and gauging her reaction. Her pupils were blown wide and she looked… hungry.

"Come here," she whispered, beckoning him forward.

At her command, he obeyed, resting one leg between hers. His hand wove into her hair and tilted her head up, exposing her neck. She swallowed, the tight skin of her throat moving and drawing his attention. He had never been so enthralled by something so innocuous before.

His tongue darted out, licking and sucking on the tight skin. Moving his hands up her body, he tugged open the buttons of her shirt, his pants tightening at the sight of her dark red bra and the swell of her breasts. Salzar, she was fucking gorgeous.

He lifted one hand, holding it just barely above her exposed chest. "May I?" he asked nervously, begging to every deity out there that she would say yes.

Granger nodded her head. She let out a breathless, _Yes,_ and arched into his hand, allowing him to grab a handful of her tit.

With one hand on her breast, he lowered his other hand to her waist, holding her tight against him. He knew that she would be able to feel his erection pressed against her stomach and he didn't care. She didn't seem to mind either; her hips pressed against his and one leg hooked over his waist.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he murmured against her neck.

Her hands slid down his waist and tugged his shirt free of his trousers, trying to pull it off without undoing any buttons. Draco leaned back with a smirk and tugged his shirt over his head. Hermione's eyes went wide as she drank in his lean Seeker's frame. Clearly those extra hours of flying were worth it.

She sat up and let her shirt fall off her shoulders, leaving her in just the bra. One hand slipped behind her back to pop open the clasp. The cups fell forward to expose her rosy nipples, tightened with arousal. Settling back into the sofa, propped up on her elbows, her chest pushed out further, teasing him.

"Like what you see?" she asked in a low voice.

He nodded quickly before he could catch himself. Gods, what was wrong with him? They were just breasts. Perfect, beautiful, full breasts. And they were all for him.

"Granger," he growled. "You're going to have to stop me or tell me now how far you want this to go."

"Maybe a little further but not all the way." She looked him up and down again. "A little more, absolutely."

Leaning back down and sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, Draco moved his hands down her waist until they were resting on the edge of her skirt. She tried to move her hands to his belt, but he grabbed them and pinned them above her head. He knew if she touched him, gave any sort of attention to his cock, he wouldn't last more than ten seconds. And he _really_ wanted to enjoy this time with her.

The hand on her thigh slid higher, moving slowly to give her the chance to stop him. She let out a small moan when he brushed against the bottom of her knickers. He could feel her arousal pooling at the apex of her thighs and he so desperately wanted to plunge between them.

He rubbed his thumb over her knickers, applying gentle pressure to her clit. Her hips bucked into his hand and she let out a breathy moan. Moving his lips from hers, he kissed down her neck and through the valley of her chest. Her breathing was shallow, small whimpers escaping as he continued to tease her.

"More," she begged, and he felt the pressure in his cock build even more.

Draco released her wrists and brought both hands under her skirt, pushing it up her hips and exposing a pair of matching red knickers. He thought he might start drooling at the view. Sliding two fingers under the band, his eyes never leaving her face, he pulled them down her hips and tossed them on the floor where his shirt was.

Completely exposed to him, he could tell she was battling internally over the need to cover herself. He knelt between her legs, his hands running up her thighs and pushing them apart slightly. Her foot fell to the floor, opening her up to him.

He thought he might explode. He could never go back from this — never return to being just her friend — and he didn't think he would ever want to.

One finger dipped between her wet folds and slid inside, feeling her tight muscles clench around him. Her eyes fluttered closed and her hips rotated slightly as she adjusted to the feeling of him. He thrust his finger gently a few times before adding a second. Her back arched, the angle of her hips shifting. His thumb resumed its ministrations on her clit, rubbing small circles until she shook and cried out his name.

"Oh, gods, Draco, yes," she cried and he picked up speed. He wanted her to come, wanted to taste her after she came.

Her walls fluttered and held his fingers tightly. He adjusted his position so his face was between her legs. Opening her eyes, she watched him, her eyes unfocused as pleasure rippled over her in waves.

"Let go, Granger. I want to feel you fall apart around my fingers and then I want to taste you."

She cried out his name again, her hips bucking into him. As she tipped over the edge, her lips quivered and her shoulders shook.

Sliding his fingers out of her, he kept rubbing circles over her clit. He dragged his tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top, loving the way she gasped at the sensation. Slipping his tongue between her folds, he thrust in a few times, licking and sucking up her come. She tasted like the sweetest fruit and he wanted more.

Her fingers slid into his hair, holding his mouth to her quim as her hips thrust against his face. He removed his tongue — pumping his fingers back inside her — and began to suck on her clit, trying to discover all the things that would drive her wild.

It didn't take long before she was shaking around him again, crying out that she was going to come. He smiled against her cunt, sucking her clit into his mouth and rubbing his tongue along the sensitive bud. His free hand moved up her torso and tugged on her nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

She came apart with a loud cry before sinking into the sofa, her hands releasing his head. He placed gentle kisses to the insides of her thighs and the bare skin above her bunched up skirt.

As much as he wanted to snog her like that, with the taste of her come on his lips, he thought she might not enjoy it. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he leaned in to kiss her. His erection throbbed in his trousers, reminding him that he still hadn't had a release.

Reading his mind, Granger pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide. "Can I touch you?" she whispered.

Draco nodded his head and reversed their positions so she was hovering above him, her knees on either side of his legs. She quickly pulled his belt free from his trousers and popped open the buttons of his fly.

She looked nervous, but took a quick breath before pulling his trousers and pants down to his knees, his cock springing free. He already knew that he was… above average, but still took immense pleasure in the way her mouth popped open slightly at the sight of his large cock standing proud.

Ever the brave little Gryffindor, she wrapped one hand tentatively around his shaft and pumped it slowly. A bead of precum glistened at the head and she swiped her thumb over it, making him groan at the feeling. He wasn't going to last long, he could tell right away.

This felt so much better than when he had wanked to thoughts of her before bed. He would have never imagined her sitting above him like this, in only a skirt that was bunched up around her thighs. Her hand was smaller than his, her movements more hesitant than his own, but the knowledge that it was she who was making him feel this way was enough to make him come undone.

Pushing himself up so he was sitting, Draco pressed his lips to her neck. Her hand paused when he nipped on the tender skin, her head tipping back to give him more access.

"Keep going," he whispered, his hand covering hers, moving it up and down again.

Even though he never wanted this to end, the pleasure was too much and he knew he was close to coming. Her heavy breathing was causing her tight nipples to graze against his chest. Her movements became more confident, and the small moans that fell from her lips had him shaking.

"I'm going to come," he choked out, knowing his release was imminent.

Granger gripped his cock tighter, her pumping speeding up until his warm seed spilled out. She gasped slightly as he bucked into her hand, riding out the waves of his orgasm. Warmth spread over his body and he wasn't sure he'd ever feel this good again.

When the hot spurts of come had stopped, she brought her hand away slowly, looking uncertain about what she was supposed to do with it.

"Here," he said with a small laugh, handing her his shirt from the floor.

She took it and wiped her hand clean before setting it aside. Her head fell to his shoulder and her face turned into his neck, placing gentle kisses against his sweaty skin.

Wrapping his arms around her and holding her close, he pressed his mouth to the top of her head in a loving kiss. "Thank you, Granger," he mumbled against her hair.

Hermione pulled back slightly, smirking. "We're sitting here naked after you had your fingers inside me. I think it's time you call me by my name."

Laughing, he crushed her back against him, his body relaxing around her. He felt completely at peace sitting there with her, like he'd never belonged anywhere more.

"Happy Christmas, _Hermione_." Her name felt like honey on his lips and he wondered why he hadn't been saying it more.

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

He thought his heart might explode. Nothing could ruin this.

* * *

When there was no one waiting for him when he got off the train, Draco's stomach sank. His mother had never missed the chance to meet him there but she was nowhere to be seen; neither was his father. It appeared they hadn't even sent an elf to greet him.

Sending _Hermione_ a wink as she disappeared into the crowd with Potter and Weasley, he headed towards the barrier, eager to get home and ensure his mother was alright. He was able to move through the crowds on both sides of the barrier easily, feeling more comfortable around the Muggles now that he'd spent time listening to Hermione's stories.

A Floo had been set up in one of the storage rooms at King's Cross, a convenient Muggle-Repelling Charm keeping someone from stumbling across it when they shouldn't. It used to be on the platform, but after an unfortunate incident a century earlier, the Ministry had moved it somewhere safer.

"Malfoy Manor," Draco called when he stepped into the fireplace, his heart pounding at what he might find on the other side.

The entrance hall was as it always was — pristine marble floors, dark walls, and a large chandelier. There were no decorations signalling the approaching holiday. Soft music played from one of the small drawing rooms, though that wasn't uncommon. His mother would often drink tea while listening to one of the elves play piano for her.

The door to the drawing room was propped open and he was able to see a sliver of his mother's crossed ankles, her hands holding a teacup and saucer. It was only upon pushing the door open further that he noticed how wrong the scene in front of him was.

His mother looked up from her teacup, her eyes watery and fearful. In the chair beside her sat his father, his back straight as a wand and his face perfectly composed. They looked uncomfortable, but seeing them drinking tea together wasn't uncommon.

What was uncommon, however, was the large figure looking out the window behind them. He was wearing thick black robes, the ends beginning to fray. Draco would have suspected it was a Dementor, what with the way all happiness seemed to be sucked from the room, but he could see the man's bald head and gnarled fingers.

"Draco," the man drawled, his voice sending chills down Draco's spine. "How good that you could make it home."

He stammered out a reply, tripping over his words as his heart beat faster, "Y-yes. I would never miss Christmas Hols with my family."

"What a well behaved child you've raised, Lucius," the man purred. "Draco, you would never do anything to upset your family, would you?"

This was a trap, he could feel it. Nothing good would come from this conversation.

"Of course not."

The man turned around, his snake-like features making Draco's blood run cold. "Hmm." He brought a dirty hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "Lucius, it seems you'll need to teach your boy how to follow orders better. I believe you told him to join a little group at Hogwarts, and he disobeyed. Do ensure he does better, or I'll have to take care of him myself."

His father stood up and walked over to where Draco was standing, his face angry. Even with Draco's growth spurts, his father still stood a few inches above him, using his height to his advantage.

A whimper escaped from his mother's lips and she pleaded for Lucius to stop what he was about to do.

"Cissa, our son has let the family down. He needs to know that it won't be tolerated," his father said with a low, threatening voice. "He is a disgrace to the Malfoy name."

The last thing Draco remembered before the room went black was the sight of his father's raised hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief warning for next week that there will be scenes depicting both child and spousal abuse. I will do my best to call out those sections and give a summary at the end of the chapter. If you would like to know more about those scenes beforehand, please reach out. I don't want to trigger or upset anyone.


	11. FLASHBACK: Fifth Year part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With everything going on in the world right now, it didn't feel right to post a heavy chapter like this one last week. I'm back to a regular Wednesday schedule now!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter deals with depictions of spousal and child abuse. See the end of the chapter for details.
> 
> Please take care when reading this and feel free to reach out to me on Tumblr @breathofthephoenix if you have any questions about this before or after reading.

**Winter 1996**

Draco had returned from Christmas Hols appearing as if nothing was amiss, but the minute Hermione wrapped her arms around him, she knew something was wrong. His body froze and she heard him inhale sharply. Terrified of what she would find, she tentatively lifted his shirt.

As they sat together on one of the sofas in the Room of Requirement, she healed his cuts and bruises with salves and potions. He didn't tell her what happened and she didn't ask. He had already warned her his father wouldn't be happy that he hadn't joined Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad.

Only a few weeks after returning from Christmas, there was a mass breakout from Azkaban. The large picture of Bellatrix on the front of the _Daily Prophet_ had caused rumours to spread through the school, many wondering how it happened and if Sirius Black was involved. It was nearly impossible to sit down in the Great Hall or library and not hear someone talking about it.

Draco looked like he was going to hurl. She could only imagine what this escape would mean for him when he went home for Easter in a few months. Harry continued to work with Dumbledore's Army and Hermione kept meeting with Draco afterwards. He still participated in lessons, often wanting to finish them like they had at Christmas, with him pushing her back on the sofa and his lips capturing hers.

She was smart enough to know that he was hiding something. He would tell her when he was ready. It killed her not to know what he was thinking, to not be able to help him, but she had learned through her experiences with Ron and Harry that pushing teen boys too much made them turn away from her. So, instead of nagging, she taught him protection spells and held his hand. She made sure he knew she was there for him when he was ready to talk, whenever that might be.

There had been close calls with Umbridge; they'd almost been caught on several occasions by some of the students who agreed to join her squad. Since returning from the holidays, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott had all grown suspicious of Draco.

Merlin only knew how they hadn't picked up on his behaviour before all this. It wasn't like he'd spent much time with them after third year.

One February evening, they were snuggled up on the sofa after their lesson, Hermione's head resting on his chest, their legs tangled together.

"I don't think we can spend time together in public anymore."

Lifting her head, she eyed him cautiously. "What do you mean?"

"Theo stopped me in the Common Room earlier and was questioning me a lot. I don't know what he was trying to get from me, but I know he's a part of the Inquisitorial Squad. He's probably run off to tell Umbridge everything I said. If my father, or any of his… friends find out that I'm friends with you and Potter… Hermione, it won't be good for any of us."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather talk to Dumbledore? Or McGonagall? I'm certain they would be able to help you and then you wouldn't have to pretend."

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I think it's too late for that."

Hermione's mind began to race. He was talking as if they wouldn't even be able to be friends. Was he trying to break up with her? Was this his way of saying that their relationship was too much work?

"Will I still get to see you?" she asked quietly. "Outside of classes, I mean."

His arms tightened around her, crushing her back to his chest. "Of course. My mother has been teaching me how to protect my mind using Occlumency so I can hide our friendship. But I can't guarantee that someone else would be able to do the same."

With a sigh, she snuggled against him. "I'll let Harry and Ron know you won't be joining us in the library for chess tournaments anymore. I'm sure Ron will be upset. He'll never admit it, but you're the only person that's actually a worthy opponent for him."

Draco's chest rose gently with laughter. "He's not as bad as I once thought he was, though I will deny that if you ever tell him."

"Your secret is safe with me," she said with a gentle kiss to his jaw.

Things had been changing since the end of the Triwizard Tournament. It had been like an approaching storm; the sun was still shining but the winds were picking up, bringing in dark clouds. Harry was no closer to figuring out how to defeat Voldemort and the rest of the world was still convinced he was a liar.

Things were going to have to get worse before they could get better.

* * *

**April 1996**

Easter Hols had been a nightmare for Draco. Not only was Voldemort practically living in his home, but his deranged aunt, uncle, and his uncle's brother were also there. His father was constantly trying to prove to the 'Dark Lord' that he was still his most loyal follower and that Draco would one day be a perfect addition to the ranks.

Draco had been spending as much of his time in his quarters as he could, coming out only to spend time with his mother and to eat dinner. On his last full day at home, he went to meet his mother in the drawing room for tea. Instead of finding her sitting next to one of the large windows overlooking the grounds, she was lying on the floor in the middle of the room. Her lip was split open and one of her eyes had begun to swell shut.

"Mum," he cried, running towards her, falling to his knees in front of her. "Mum, what happened?"

A single tap came from behind him and Draco's head whipped around to see his father leaning against one of the bookshelves, his wand held loosely in his hands.

"Just the person I was looking for," he drawled, stepping into the room. "I've learned the most interesting things from your mother."

Shifting so he was in front of her, Draco stood to face his father. "You did this to her? As if bringing that monster into our home wasn't enough?"

"Watch your mouth, boy. One day, you'll understand what it means to be a Malfoy." His father raised his wand, holding it steady towards Draco. "Would you like to explain to me why you've been seen gallivanting around Hogwarts with Potter's Mudblood?"

Draco's heart stopped. Things had been too good for too long. Nott must have seen him run off to find Hermione and told Umbridge. What made him think his father wouldn't hear about this? He heard about everything, whether Draco wanted him to know or not.

Clearing his mind like his mother taught him, he focused on what was in front of him — thinking of his mother and keeping her safe. He built up his walls and held her safely behind them.

His father bit out a loud laugh, his eyes dark and focused on Draco. "Nothing to say? Just as I suspected." He paused, giving Draco a moment to speak up. " _Diffindo_."

Searing pain ripped through his side as the spell split his skin open. It wasn't deep enough to hurt his bones or internal organs, but it would add another scar to his already damaged body. Falling to the floor, Draco fought to stay focused, to ensure his father couldn't read his mind.

"You dare sully the Malfoy line with that scum? How dare you _embarrass_ me like that? I thought you'd learned your lesson at Christmas, Draco. Need I teach it again?"

Draco bit his cheek to keep from crying out. The pain was becoming unbearable and it was hard for him to stay focused.

His father cast spell after spell, each hitting him with a precision that was only learned through years of practise. It would end as it always did, with a few healing spells to the face and a spiteful remark about never doing it again.

Curling into a ball to protect himself, Draco laid there and waited. He hid behind his walls, tucking away those he loved most, and promised himself that he would never become the man in front of him.

* * *

**June 1996**

Harry and Ron joined Hermione in the library one day in mid-June, forced to study for the upcoming OWLs.

"Do you think Malfoy's ever going to spend time with us again?" Harry asked suddenly, looking up from his notes.

Sighing, Hermione set down her quill. "I don't know. As long as Voldemort is still around, probably not."

Silence fell over the table again, each of them returning to their work. Hermione's mind was clouded though, wandering to thoughts of Draco and his behaviour since returning from the break.

Their lessons had stopped when Dumbledore's Army had been caught, but they continued to meet in secret. Since returning from Easter Hols, though, Draco had become quiet and closed off. He never told her about his time at home, nor did he discuss the fresh markings she saw along his side and back.

They spent his birthday together, snogging on the sofa in the Room of Requirement, never going further than they had at Christmas. Hermione wanted to, though — she wanted to give herself to him fully, but his inability to open up to her held her back from saying so.

"Hermione," whispered a voice from behind one of the nearby bookshelves.

Looking up, she caught a flash of grey eyes through the books. Both Harry and Ron seemed preoccupied with their work — or they were doing a rather good job of pretending — so she quietly stood without disrupting them.

Draco grinned brightly when she made her way around the stacks and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her.

"I miss you," he said quietly, his nose pressed to the top of her head. "I'm sorry I've been so distant."

"Are you ever going to talk to me about that?" she asked, tilting her head up to look at him.

"Tonight. Meet me after dinner?" His lips pressed to her forehead and sighed. "I've really missed you."

"I've missed you too." She stood on her toes and brought their lips together briefly. "I should get back, but I'll see you tonight."

Draco kissed her again before sending her back to the table, a sly grin on her face. It was a relief to see him looking more and more like himself.

* * *

"Fuck, Potter. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Sirius is hurt. We have to save Sirius. He's your cousin, remember?"

Draco's head pounded. He knew that whatever weird connection Harry shared with Voldemort had been right in the past but something felt different this time. Having lived with the 'Dark Lord' before, he was positive that this was something the monster would do.

Trap Harry, kill Harry, win the war.

"I shouldn't even be here," Draco grumbled as they turned another corner, heading down the long hallway to the Department of Mysteries.

"Then go home. No one said you had to come," Harry snapped.

"I'm not letting you idiots run off and get yourself killed. Someone has to be logical around here."

"Draco, stop it," Hermione hissed, tugging on his jumper. "I told you I couldn't meet with you tonight and _you_ were the one who decided to join us. _You_ were the one who tricked Umbridge so we could leave."

He shook his head, clearing it and refocusing on the task at hand. Don't let Sirius die and keep Hermione alive in the process.

The group moved forward, Harry leading, with Draco, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna following behind. When they finally reached the entrance and found twelve identical doors, Draco started to question whether or not he had made the right choice. Making sure Hermione was safe was his top priority, but surely he could have kept her at the castle instead.

Suddenly, the door behind them clicked shut and the room began to spin. They made their way through one of the doors carefully, discovering a mostly empty room, save for the large tank in the middle filled with pearly-white objects.

"Let's get out of here," said Harry, looking at the tank. "This isn't right, we need to try another door."

Draco stepped back towards the entrance. "Come on then." He'd meant back to Hogwarts but resigned himself to following the group into another room.

After ending up in the wrong place more than once, they stumbled into a long dark room, full of glittering orbs. The shelves ran as high as the ceiling and further back than Draco could see.

Harry motioned for them to move forward. Ron stuck to Harry's side, Hermione and Draco keeping close behind, and Neville, Ginny, and Luna following in the rear. They kept their wands up, looking for any signs of Sirius.

"He should be near here," Harry said when they reached row ninety-seven. "Anywhere here… really close…"

"Maybe someone found him and took him to St Mungo's?" Luna offered kindly. Her heart was in the right place, but Draco doubted that she was right.

Beginning to panic, Harry ran up and down the row. His frantic movements weren't doing any good and were clearly upsetting the rest of the group. Draco wound his arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her close. She looked up at him, her eyes showing a mix of concern and fear.

"Harry," Ron said, looking at one of the glowing orbs near him. "Have you seen this?"

"What?" snapped Harry, moving closer to where Ron was.

"It — it's got your name on it."

The rest of the group gravitated towards Ron, their necks angled up to see for themselves. As they read the inscription, Draco's brow furrowed. Why was Harry's name on one of the glass balls when no one else had one?

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," Hermione warned as his hand stretched out and reached for the ball.

"Why not? It's got my name on it."

Harry's hand touched the orb and the room shifted. Holding his breath, Draco waited for something to happen, for a ghost to appear or for something to explode. But there was nothing.

Nothing but deafening silence for a single heartbeat.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

_Father_.

He would know that voice anywhere. Draco's heart picked up and his palms became sticky. He should have guessed his father would be here, leading the charge for Voldemort, doing his job as the highest-ranked follower.

Masked figures stepped out from the shadows, surrounding them on all sides. Draco and the others immediately formed a tight circle, ensuring that no one's back was unprotected.

Keeping his back to the voice, Draco reached for Hermione's hand and held it tight. They glanced at each other, silently communicating.

_I love you, I'll keep you safe._

He hoped she was saying the same thing.

Harry began to taunt the Death Eaters, and Draco heard his Aunt Bellatrix mimicking him. They would have to be careful not to get in her way; she wasn't one to kill quickly.

The back and forth continued, and Draco could tell his father and Bellatrix were becoming angrier. He hoped Harry had a plan, especially when he warned them not to attack until he said so.

Just when it felt as if the taunting would never end, Harry shouted for them to cast.

" _Reducto!_ " they all yelled, aiming their spells at the shelves surrounding the Death Eaters.

Draco pulled Hermione out of the way and led her down one of the rows, back to the Time Room where they'd entered. Harry and Neville followed close behind, slamming the door shut when they were through.

They quickly realised that not only were they separated from the others, but Death Eaters had managed to follow them. Moving through any doors they could find, trying to get away, they ended up in a small office. Draco held Hermione close to him, noticing that she grabbed Harry's hand as well.

A Death Eater kicked the door down and Draco caught sight of Dolohov, one of his father's acquaintances that had been around the Manor during the previous summer.

Spells shot off from both sides, Hermione and Harry immediately jumping to their feet. Draco cursed himself for a second time for joining them on this suicide mission. He noticed Neville wasn't as quick to move as the others.

Dolohov shouted back to the others, "WE'VE GOT HIM. IN AN OFFICE—"

" _Silencio_!" Hermione's wand pointed at Dolohov, preventing him from summoning help.

Dolohov gave Hermione a wicked smile and waved his wand, aiming straight for her chest. Purple flames shot from his wand and she fell to the ground, unable to move. The world froze; the only thing that mattered was Hermione and making sure she was alive. Blocking out whatever Harry was saying to Dolohov, Draco scrambled over to Hermione's motionless body.

He immediately pressed his hand against her neck, looking for a pulse. After he let out a relieved sigh, he noticed her chest was rising and falling slowly. Everything sped up to a rapid pace, and suddenly he was carrying Hermione out of the room, trying to locate the others. Finding them in the entrance, they quickly checked to see who was hurt and tried to get out of there.

Neville was wandless, Ginny had a broken ankle, and Ron couldn't stop laughing hysterically. Draco was unable to cast properly because of the way he was holding Hermione, and while Harry wasn't the worst wizard out there, he highly doubted that he would be able to take on all the Death Eaters himself, even with Luna helping. He tossed Neville Hermione's wand, knowing that it would be better than leaving him defenceless.

Bellatrix broke through one of the doors, leading a group of Death Eaters with her, and forcing Draco and the others to retreat through the first available door. They ended up in one of the rooms they'd already been through — the one with the large tank and pearly-white objects.

The fighting continued, spells shooting off in every direction. Trying to protect Hermione, Draco moved quickly through the room, keeping a strong _Protego_ around them.

"RON, NO!"

Draco turned to see Ron's body being covered by one of the white objects from the tank. It looked like an octopus trying to suffocate him, wrapping its tentacles around his body and constricting.

The simple spells they were using weren't taking out their opponents, and the Death Eaters were attacking ferociously, quickly knocking Ginny unconscious. Harry fought them off, moving through the door, into another room and out of sight. The Death Eaters followed and Draco noticed his father amongst them, either unaware that his son was in the room or choosing to ignore him completely. If his father knew he was there, and surely he must have realised it by that point, Draco couldn't understand his motive for ignoring him.

Moving so they were closer to Ginny, Draco fell to his knees, Hermione still in his arms. Ginny appeared to be breathing and Hermione's pulse hadn't changed. He wanted to run in after Harry, to go after his father while he had the chance, but he couldn't leave the girls here like this.

Looking at the door the others had run through and back to Hermione and Ginny, he sighed and crept forward until he was able to watch Harry duel his father.

"You stupid child," his father taunted. "You think I didn't know my son was running alongside you? Did you truly believe he was your _friend_?"

Draco's heart raced, thoughts tumbling through his mind. What game was he playing?

"You know _nothing_ about him! He is our friend!" Harry shouted back.

His father let out a crazed laugh. "Is that why he's hiding back there instead of out here fighting alongside you? Quite the friend he is if he's too much of a coward to protect the Chosen One."

Without thinking, Draco ran down the steps to the platform where the two wizards were dueling. Coming up to flank Harry, he held his wand up, casting spell after spell at his father.

"Watch it, boy," his father warned, aiming his wand at Draco's chest. "You wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea about whose side you're on."

" _Stupefy!_ " Draco shouted, red sparks flying from his wand.

The spell was deflected by a wordless shield. There was a wicked gleam in his father's eye as he moved quickly to cast a spell aimed at the younger men. The three wizards darted around each other as Draco tried to move to the otherside to trap his father in the middle.

The older man fought back harder, sweat beading along his hairline and causing his hair to stick to his face. He was quick to cast, always one spell ahead of both Draco and Harry.

A loud bang sounded through the room and a group of Aurors rushed in, shooting off spells in every direction. Draco took advantage of the distraction to attack his father.

" _Diffindo_ ," Draco cast confidently.

A warmth spread through his chest as his father clutched his side in pain, his knees buckling. He knew how it felt when the tight skin along his ribs split open. What he had done to his father hadn't even touched the surface of what had been done to him through the years, but gave Draco a rush of power nonetheless.

"Don't you _ever_ touch Mother again, you fucking bastard," he threatened, his voice low. " _Furnunculus_!"

He watched as large boils spotted over the man's face, marring his otherwise perfect features. Smirking down at him, Draco turned on his heel, running back to where Hermione was. He didn't care that there were still duels going on around him — he needed to make sure she was alright.

"You can't keep this up forever, Draco!" his father yelled. "You're just like me. You're a Malfoy; _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_."

He paused halfway up the steps. _Purity will always conquer_. Why had his father chosen to remind him of that? Was he truly so delusional that he would think Draco would drop everything and fight for the dark just because of what his last name was?

Maybe he would have before, but not now. Now he knew better.

* * *

Hermione had been in the hospital wing for three days, taking copious amounts of potions to ease her pain. By the end of the third day, Madam Pomfrey released her, saying she would be feeling more herself by the end of the week, though she should still take it easy. It wouldn't matter how many potions she took, the shiny purple markings that danced along her torso would never go away, and that felt worse than the pain.

She hadn't seen the scars since the first night, turning away whenever Madam Pomfrey checked on the healing. She closed her eyes when she showered, shying away from touching them, and ensuring no one was around when she changed.

By the time Saturday rolled around and students were celebrating their last day at school, she had only crossed paths with Draco during meals. Their exams were over and she knew he was battling his emotions over his father's imprisonment. But she needed to see him, to tell him that everything was going to be alright.

"Harry," she said, knocking on his bedroom door after dinner that day. "I need to borrow your cloak and the map."

He raised his eyebrow at her but handed the silky fabric over easily. His grip on the map didn't relent. "If Filch catches you—"

"I know, I know. That's what the map is for. Thank you, Harry!" She placed a quick peck to his cheek before rushing out of the Common Room.

Tossing the cloak over her shoulders and opening the map, she crept through the corridors, down to the dungeons. It was still early enough in the evening that she wouldn't get in trouble for being out, but she didn't want to worry about anyone asking her _why_ she was out.

The map showed Draco in his room alone. There were a few people in the Common Room and she hoped one of them would get up and leave so she could sneak in.

When several minutes passed and there was no movement inside the Common Room, Hermione aimed her wand at the wall and shot off a spell, a loud bang echoing against it. Glancing down at the map, she noticed a younger student walking towards the entrance.

A door appeared on the blank wall in front of her and the student looked around nervously. With her footsteps silenced, she slipped past him and into the unfamiliar room. Harry and Ron hadn't done the Slytherin Common Room justice when they described it to her in second year.

She could see herself curling up by the large window with a book, enthralled by the giant squid floating past and casting shadows across the floor. It was a wonder anyone ever left this place when it had sofas that looked like she could sink into them and a calming glow rippling from the water.

Following the map to his room, Hermione stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

Draco jumped to his feet, his wand aimed at the door. "What the fuck?"

Letting out a small laugh, Hermione removed the cloak and stood grinning at him. "Surprise."

"Hermione? What are you doing here? Did anyone see you?"

She shook her head and stepped towards him. "Completely undetected. I wanted to see you before we went home. Will your roommates be back soon?"

"Not until late. There's a party in the Common Room later tonight so I think everyone will be there."

"Do you think they'll notice if you aren't?" she asked coyly, stepping closer, her chest brushing against him.

Swallowing, he aimed his wand at the door to lock and silence it. "I don't think they'll care at all."

Hermione wasn't sure who actually initiated the kiss. Their lips crashed together in frantic movements, her hands gripping his shirt and pulling him close. He held her waist tightly, his fingers clinging to her in desperation.

Moving quickly, she unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and onto the floor. Her hands raked over his slender frame, his muscles becoming more defined with age.

Her breath hitched when his hands drifted along the bottom of her shirt. She hadn't thought this far ahead. Maybe she could just keep it on…

"What's wrong?" he asked, his breathing ragged.

"The curse. The scars."

Draco leaned his forehead against hers, his grey eyes burning into her. "You're beautiful. With or without the scars."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded her head for him to keep going. Never breaking eye contact, he lifted the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. His lips closed over hers, his hands steady on her hips.

He ducked his head, peppering kisses along her neck and shoulder, his lips never quite touching the scars. It looked as if the purple fire had left fireworks across her chest, running a path from the bottom of her left hip and curving around the inside of her right breast, different sized purple spots marking her forever.

Dropping to his knees, Draco slid her skirt off her hips, his eyes lifting to meet hers. He moved in slowly, gently pressing his soft lips to each mark. She tried to imagine that he was kissing freckles or a birthmark. Anything other than what it truly was.

"So beautiful," he muttered between kisses as he reached the top of her breasts. "My perfect witch."

He took his time with her, licking and sucking every bit of exposed skin before unclasping her bra and tugging her peaked nipples between his teeth. Their hips ground against each other, his erection pressing into her stomach.

"I need you," she panted. "Please, Draco."

Running her hands along his back, she slipped them under the band of his briefs, pushing them over his arse and exposing his hard cock. Warmth pooled in her belly and she shifted her thighs together, feeling a dampness between her legs.

He must have noticed her movement; a smirk danced on the edge of his lips. His hands moved down the gentle curves of her hips and pulled the green lace down her thighs, tossing the knickers over to the pile with the rest of their clothing.

They stood facing each other, completely bare. They had never been this exposed before, this vulnerable. Suddenly it didn't matter how much they had done or seen before. This was it. This was new and terrifying and exhilarating.

Draco stepped back slightly, his eyes wide and nervous.

"Are you on the potion?" he asked nervously.

She nodded. "Since Christmas." Stepping towards him again, she noticed that the hesitation in his eyes remained.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

Draco ran his hand through his hair. "Are you — I mean… Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Of course! D-do you not want to?" Her heart thumped in her chest and she had the urge to cover herself. He had seen her naked and was rejecting her.

"Merlin, no! I mean, that's not what I meant! I want this, I want this so badly." A deep blush rose along his neck and cheeks.

"So do I," she said quietly.

He stepped towards her, his hands moving to cup her arse, holding her against him.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice shaky.

"I love you, too."

Draco lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bed and gently tossing her onto the mattress. She was panting by the time he knelt over her, her legs on either side of his thighs.

He slipped his fingers between the folds of her cunt, stroking her clit with his thumb. Arching her back into his touch, Hermione grabbed his arms, a quiet moan escaping her lips.

Leaning forward so their lips were almost touching, he reached between them to line up his cock.

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

Her breath hitched as he pressed into her, stretching her fully. They both stilled, adjusting to the new feelings. It stung, more than she had imagined it would, but there was a building pleasure behind the pain and she wanted more of it. Bringing her hands down to his waist, Hermione held on, bucking her hips slightly into his.

Their movements started slow, nervous and unmatched rhythms as they discovered what to do. With each snap of his hips, there was more confidence, an eager look in his eyes as she cried out for him. His fingers rubbed against her clit, his hips thrust against her, quickly bringing her to a peak higher than she'd ever felt before.

"Fuck," Draco grunted, his warm breath hitting her face. "You feel incredible."

She was certain she was going to orgasm. A bubble of pure ecstasy built in her chest and she craved the release. Her fingernails dug into his back, surely leaving marks. With every deep stroke into her, she reached for the peak. Arching her back and curling her toes, she moved with him.

"I'm com–coming," he groaned, bucking into her again. His head dropped to her shoulder as his body shook with his climax.

Sucking the tight skin of her neck between his lips and rubbing his thumb against her clit, Draco brought her over the edge. It wasn't the earth-shattering feeling she had expected it to be, but she finally understood why people enjoyed sex so much. Even as she rode out the tail end of her orgasm, she already wanted more. She wanted to do everything with Draco, to discover what worked and what didn't.

Sliding out of her and rolling onto his back, Draco pulled Hermione into his arms. "Thank you. That was—" he ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breathless laugh. "There aren't any words for how amazing that was."

Nodding her head, she snuggled into his chest, enjoying the moments she had with him while she could.

"I shouldn't stay too late," she said quietly, feeling a pit in her stomach at the thought of leaving him.

"Then let's just enjoy the time we have now before we have to think about tomorrow."

"I don't want to be away from you this summer."

"I know, love. This summer will fly by and then we'll be back in no time. I promise. Sixth year will be the best one yet."

She placed a kiss to his chest and closed her eyes, hoping that he was right and that September would roll around quickly and uneventfully.

* * *

Sirius was dead and his fath— no, _Lucius_ , was in Azkaban. Draco couldn't even say his name without feeling bile rise in his throat. And now he had to go home and deal with the literal monster in his home. The idea of dealing with Lucius was almost favourable.

Parting with Hermione on the Hogwarts Express had been harder than ever before. The feeling of her hands on him the night before still lingered on his skin, and he wanted to hold on to them forever.

"I'll write to you, I promise," he vowed, holding her close.

Hermione nodded her head, her tears soaking the front of his robes. "I love you," she said, her voice breaking with emotion.

"I love you, too."

He clung to her until the last possible moment, feeling the cold emptiness surround him as soon as she was gone.

The Manor was just as cold and lonely. Any trace of the love that once filled the halls was gone. His mother no longer listened to her favourite music or hummed the melody of a song from her childhood. She wandered the halls like a ghost — emotionless and with a vacant stare.

Weeks went by with no contact to or from Hermione. It wasn't safe to use his owls, and he was sure Voldemort would have them intercepted if he tried. For all he knew, she had been writing to him this whole time, but the letters never reached him.

Without Lucius there, Voldemort and his followers took over. They worked the house-elves until they were so worn down their magic nearly stopped working and then beat them for not being able to complete tasks. Portraits left their frames, gone to find other places in the Manor that were hidden away from the indescribable events that occured in the main parts of the house.

Draco didn't feel like it was his home anymore. He felt like an intruder, constantly trying not to be seen. He just wanted to make it through the summer and get back to Hermione and Hogwarts.

As the end of summer drew nearer, he felt the tension in his body ease. He would be free soon, able to play Quidditch and be with Hermione. Merlin, he missed her most. Days would go by when he would lie in bed thinking of nothing but the things he wanted to do with her.

He would need supplies from Diagon Alley soon, so Draco made his way down the twisting halls to find his mother and let her know he'd be gone for a while.

"Draco," cooed Bellatrix from the drawing room he was walking past. "Come join us."

Shivers ran down his spine as he pushed open the door further and saw his mother lay next to his aunt. Her body shook slightly in what looked like the aftereffects of a _Crucio_.

"Mother," he gasped. Looking back to Bellatrix, he saw the wicked gleam in her eyes. "What's going on?"

The door closed behind him, trapping him in a room with a crazed murderer.

"We were just discussing your behaviour this past year. It won't do to have another one of my followers disrespect me."

Make that _two_ crazed murderers.

Voldemort turned from where he was looking out the windows. Draco noticed that the dark wizard had a habit of scanning the Malfoy grounds, whether it was strategic or just a way of making an entrance, he wasn't sure.

"Will you disrespect me, Draco?"

He wanted to stand up to the creature that was surely going to try to kill his best friends one day. He wanted to be someone other than his father. He wanted to be a better person.

" _Crucio_ ," Bellatrix said, her wand aimed at his mother.

Screams echoed through the room. He couldn't think, couldn't move. It was as if someone had cast a body binding spell on him.

The curse on his mother ended and Draco felt the tension in his body release.

"He must _obey_ you, my Lord," Bellatrix purred, her grey eyes flashing with a crazed hunger. She pressed the tip of her wand under Draco's chin, forcing him to look up into Voldemort's eyes.

The snake-like wizard walked around Draco. The smell of death radiated from his paper-thin skin and Draco was sure his robes hadn't been cleaned since his return the year prior.

"Draco, my boy," Voldemort said, his voice causing the hairs on Draco's neck to stand. "Your father is in prison, rotting away like the scum he is. He failed and now he must suffer. You don't want to suffer too, do you, Draco?"

There was a whimper from beside him and Draco's body shook at the sound of his mother's cries. He slid his eyes to where she lay on the floor, her body still shaking from the residual magic. He fought the urge to reach out to her, to cradle her head in his lap and stroke her back like she used to do for him.

Bellatrix's wand pushed into his neck, drawing his attention away from his mother. "Answer him!"

"N—no," he stuttered, fighting back the tears that welled in the corners of his eyes. The wand in his neck threatened to cut off his air. "No, my L—Lord." He had never referred to Voldemort directly and the feeling of the name made his mouth go dry.

"Very good, Draco. You might be what saves your mother from an untimely demise." Voldemort turned and walked away from him, robes billowing out behind him. "I have a task for you. Complete it successfully, and your mother will be saved. Refuse, and I will kill her slowly in front of you."

His mother let out another sob, her teeth chattering between cries. "Draco, no. Please. Don't do it. I'm not worth it."

Bellatrix laughed maniacally, her stale breath hitting Draco's face and causing his stomach to roil in disgust. "Are you going to listen to mummy dearest? Do you want to be the reason she's dead? There are so many things I could do to her, to the favourite Black daughter. Maybe I'll bring Greyback in here for some fun as well."

"Now, now, my pet." Voldemort turned back to face Bellatrix and dragged his hand down her cheek lovingly. Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into his touch, a small moan escaping from her lips.

Draco took advantage of her distraction and moved to his mother. He sunk to the floor and pulled her close to him, his long arms wrapping around her fragile frame. She clung to him, her cheeks damp against his neck, her body shaking. He bit down on his bottom lip, trying to damper his emotions before they took over.

"Run, my Dragon. Get Hermione and run." His mother's words were quiet, rushed out in barely a whisper.

A long shadow was cast over them. "What will it be, Draco?"

His heart pounded in his chest and his mind raced through every possible outcome. If he listened to his mother and ran, he knew she would be killed. He would force Hermione into a life of running and hiding, never fully able to be free. And what of Harry? But if he stayed, who knew what he would be forced to do. Would he still be able to protect those he loved?

A third option floated in front. Help defeat Voldemort from the inside. Give Hermione the information the Order needed to win. He could do that. He could save them all.

"I'll do it. Whatever you want." He gave his mother a gentle squeeze, hoping to convince her that he had a plan. She looked at him, a mixture of fear and concern in her eyes.

"But my Lord!" Bellatrix protested. "What if he's a traitorous little brat? What if he's like his father and fails?"

Ignoring Bellatrix, Voldemort watched Draco, his eyes hard. "Stand."

At the command, Draco rose on shaky legs. He took deep breaths, steeling his nerves for whatever would happen next. He tested his Occlumency walls, ensuring that everything and everyone he loved was safe, protected. Locked within the box in his mind, buried behind brick walls and steel.

"Bella is right. I need obedience. Will you be obedient, Draco?"

"Yes — yes, my Lord."

"Excellent…" Voldemort smiled at him, his snake-like eyes glistening with joy. "But I will not make the same mistakes I did with your pathetic father." He turned to face Bellatrix. "As we discussed and nothing more."

Draco watched nervously as Voldemort left the room and silence took his place. Bellatrix moved toward him, her face split open in a wide grin that sent chills down his spine. His heart picked up its pace and he wondered if he was going to be sick.

"Oh, my dear, sweet nephew. You have no idea how happy this makes me."

Seconds ticked by. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, blocking out the sound of his mother's cries.

She held out her wand, pointing it at his chest.

" _Imperio_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: child and spousal abuse.
> 
> -April 1996: Draco is home for Easter and sees that his father has abused his mother. He tries to stand up to her and is abused by magic
> 
> -June 1996, fourth section: Draco is home for Summer and sees that Bellatrix has used Crucio on his mother. He is threatened by Bellatrix and Voldemort


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger last chapter. I promise we'll get back to that in a couple weeks ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting. It means the absolute world to me!

**June 2004**

Twenty minutes. Draco had only asked for twenty minutes of peace and quiet so he could finish reading through this report for work. And his ever-so-loving wife was more than happy to give him that. However, she had failed to mention the Potters would be stopping by.

They'd been there for all of five minutes and he already had a headache.

"Will you please tell her that it's a horrible middle name?" Harry pleaded, gesturing towards where his very pregnant wife sat on one of the sofas in the office.

Draco sighed and slid his reading glasses off. "Red, you really want to name your child James Gaylord Potter? Did you even say it out loud first?"

Ginny mumbled something unintelligible and glared at him. "Oh please, like you have a better idea?"

"Yes, actually." He summoned a book from the shelf nearby and cracked it open to the back. "Baby names, lots and lots of baby names."

Eyeing the book of constellations, Ginny rolled her eyes. "I am not naming my firstborn after some cluster of stars. We aren't Blacks."

"Technically, Potter over here _is_ a Black. Besides, it's a perfectly respectable house. And it's not like either of your families have long lasting traditions."

"Then we'll make our own! You'll see. The Potter family will be known for its—" Ginny paused, her nose twitching with frustration. "I don't know what! But it'll be something! You'll see, Draco Malfoy." She got up and stormed out of the room, the door slamming in her wake.

Harry rubbed his face and shot Draco a pointed look. "Did you really have to rile her up like that?"

"It's not hard, Potter. Besides, do you really want your child to have _Gaylord_ as their middle name?"

"No, definitely not. I just wish you could have gotten your point across without pissing her off."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You asked for my help."

"Yes, but _I'm_ the one who has to go home with her, you know."

"Oh, it's not that bad." He waved his hand nonchalantly and sat back in his chair. "Rub her feet, draw her a bath, tell her she's pretty."

Harry barked out a humourless laugh. "Just wait until Hermione is eight months pregnant and then call her pretty. Ginny nearly cut my bollocks off for that one."

Sighing, Draco placed the book of stars on the desk in front of him. "Yeah, just waiting."

"You mean? You've started trying?"

"No, not yet. I'm waiting for her to give the green light. I know I'm ready. I want this. I've wanted a proper family for so long."

"We're still young. It's not like you need to rush into it or anything."

"Says the person who's about to pop out his firstborn before age twenty-four." Draco smirked at him. "Do you think you're ready?"

"Merlin, no. I don't know if we ever will be. But it seemed like the right time, you know? I'm at a point in my career that I can take some time off and not have to worry about falling behind in training, and Ginny's been a starter for the Harpies long enough that she's comfortable taking a season off."

Draco let the words soak in. He and Hermione had discussed children on more than one occasion and it was always the same answer, 'not yet'. He knew she was worried about her career, still unsure what she wanted to do. While she enjoyed her work at the Ministry, she had often told him that it felt suffocating, like she was trapped there.

"Well," Harry said, "until you pop out a couple of your own, you're signed up for babysitting duty."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!"

Harry looked at Draco and grinned. "Someone's in trouble."

He was right, it was never a good sign when Hermione used his full name. The witch barged into the room, her curls flying around her wildly.

He gave her a sweet smile. "Hello, dear."

"Don't you 'hello, dear' me! Did you really just tell Ginny that she was going to be a horrible mother?!"

Draco blanched. "What? Of course not! I merely told her that perhaps she should think about what she wants to name her child a bit more."

"And then you said we wouldn't be respectable parents," Ginny sobbed, her eyes red and puffy. "You said we were going to be worse than the Blacks!"

"What?" Draco looked at Harry and then back to their wives. "I swear I didn't say that. I think I said that the Blacks have traditions and the Potters don't have any yet. It's not a bad thing, I promise."

"You said I was going to be a bad mother!"

This was a losing battle and he knew it. It wasn't the first time during Ginny's pregnancy that she had taken something he'd said the wrong way and had run off to tell Hermione. Their most frequent misunderstanding always seemed to revolve around which house her child would end up in. Apparently Slytherin was _not_ an acceptable house for the future Potter kids.

"Ginny, I promise you that even if I did say those words, and I know that I didn't, I didn't mean them."

"Fine." She stomped her foot and looked at Harry. "I'm going home. Back to the _Black_ home that I just so happen to live in."

"Thanks, mate. Really appreciate that," Harry muttered as he followed his wife.

Hermione glared at Draco. "Really? You couldn't have just agreed with the name choice? It's their child, not ours."

He lifted an eyebrow at her. "Gaylord. She wanted to name their child James Gaylord Potter."

"Well," she said quickly. "Maybe you did the right thing."

"I'm just doing what a godparent is supposed to — protecting their godchild, no matter the cost."

He held his arms open and Hermione moved to sit on his lap. She tucked herself against his chest, her arms wrapping around his torso. "You think they'll ask us to be godparents?"

"Harry was hinting at it the other day. Kept going on about how glad he is that there's no dark wizard out to get me and that his kid might grow up with godparents unlike him. This was all barring him and Ginny being killed first, of course," Draco said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"Wow," she said in disbelief. "He's sounding like he did back in school."

"Oh, you mean constantly worried that someone he loves might get killed at any moment and it'll be all his fault?"

"Yes, that."

"I think it's just pregnancy fears," Draco replied, as if that were the most logical answer. Though Harry had never openly admitted to being nervous, he could only assume that there were some pre-baby jitters.

"He's not the pregnant one."

"Could have fooled me with the deep set panic in his eyes. He does know he's not the one giving birth, right?"

Hermione chuckled and placed a kiss to his neck. "They're going to make great parents. Even if they don't quite know it yet."

"I know, and I tried telling him, but I don't think he's ready to listen." He leaned his head against hers. "Sounds like someone else I know."

"Me? What are you talking about?"

"I see how you are with Victoire and Teddy. Your face lights up whenever you're around them and there's this instant gravitation. I swear, everything else in the room disappears the minute a child enters."

"I love children. I _do_ want kids one day, Draco."

"Soon?"

Her hands were fidgeting in her lap the way they always did when she was hiding something from him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, uncertain.

There was a moment's pause before she finally spoke. "I quit my job today."

He didn't say anything, waiting for her to tell him what happened.

When she didn't offer up an explanation, Draco asked, "What happened?"

"I met with my boss to discuss a promotion and my career path. I could tell right away that no matter how hard I worked, or what projects I took on, I was never going to be able to move up the way that I want to."

"So you just quit?"

"Yes," she said meekly. "I know I should have talked to you first, but I just couldn't stand the thought of coming in day after day and knowing that was as good as it was going to get for me. I want more than just researching for other people and making no progress on issues that are important to me."

He shifted their positions on the chair so that he was able to look at her, his hands holding the tops of her arms. "I'm really proud of you. I know how much you hated it there, and I'm so glad you quit. If you never want to work a day in your life, you don't have to. If you want to open up a bookshop, I'll support you. If you want to come join the firm, I guarantee you there will be a position with your name on it."

Letting out a laugh, Hermione clasped her hands around his neck. "I love you, but I never want to work with you. Can you imagine? We'd kill each other within the first ten minutes."

She was right and he knew it. He cherished their time together, knowing how precious it was, but he also loved that at the end of the day they were each still their own person. Some of their classmates had graduated and gotten married fresh out of school and continued to do everything together. It felt as if some of them had taken the idea of 'two becoming one' quite literally.

"Alright, so no working together." Placing a soft peck to her lips, he sighed. "What's your plan then? Not that you _need_ to work, but I know you'll get bored if you just sit at home all day and do nothing."

"I might take some time to think about it. I'm still young, and as you said, there's no financial pressure."

"Do what you need to do. I'll support you fully."

* * *

**July 2004**

"Do you think they'll get the storyline right in the movie?" Draco asked, plucking a piece of popcorn out of the container in his lap.

Hermione glanced at her husband. "Why would they change the story for the book and not the movie? Besides, Rowling is apparently quite involved in the making of these, so I doubt it."

"Hmm," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. "I liked third year though. It was my favourite year."

"Really? Third year? Not fourth when we first kissed, or fifth when we"—she glanced around for listening children—"had sex? You prefer third year when I punched you?"

"No, I prefer third year when we became best friends."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Oh, well I suppose if you look at it that way, then yes, third year was my favourite as well."

The lights in the cinema darkened and Draco slid his hand into hers, gripping tightly.

The familiar music and logo that Hermione had grown accustomed to filled the screen, lighting the large room. She could see the children around them literally bouncing in their seats with excitement. Had these films come out when she was their age, she probably would have been excited as well. Granted, the stories wouldn't have existed without her, but that was beside the point.

Draco leaned over part way through the film and whispered in her ear, "My favourite part is coming up."

Bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh, she could feel heat rising to her cheeks. Leave it to Draco to find ways to make her blush even after a decade of being together.

_Smack!_

A few people around her cheered when the movie version of herself landed a punch square on movie Draco's nose. Even she had a difficult time containing her joy at the memory. In that moment she had felt so empowered, though that didn't last long. Barely an hour later, she found herself using the Time-Turner to go back and help him.

Watching parts of her life played out in front of her felt different than reading it in a book, or even viewing something in a Pensieve. In the book, she could imagine her tanned skin and Draco's sharp features. She could see Harry's lightning-shaped scar as it truly was. But in a film, everything was different and it was hard to look past it.

Sure, the actors and actresses they had cast to play her and her friends weren't the worst, but they weren't quite accurate either. Whoever they had cast as Sirius and Lupin, while great actors, were far too old. She distinctly remembered having a crush on Lupin when he was their professor, and she was certain that he had been more attractive than the man on screen.

And her hair! Who had thought that her hair looked that nice in third year? She wished that she had known how to style her hair like that back then.

When the lights came up in the cinema, Draco turned to her, his lips angled down. "Well, at least they got the punch right."

"To be fair," she said, standing up to stretch. "Everything was correct except for the bit about our friendship. They even managed to include you being attacked by Buckbeak."

He rolled his eyes. "Of all things for them to include, I'm _so_ glad it was that. I didn't react that poorly, did I?"

Pressing her lips together to hold back a laugh, she nodded her head. "You kept prancing around the school muttering about how your father would hear about it. Honestly, it's a wonder I ever chose to befriend you after that."

"I'm still upset that they didn't include our friendship. I _know_ that's what the books have done, but they must realise how much our friendship affected things later?"

Following the crowd out of the theatre, Hermione reached for Draco's hand. "We knew going in tonight that this wasn't going to be as we remembered it. We've both read the books and are aware of the differences. If we're going to keep seeing the films, I think we need to lower our expectations."

"I suppose you're right." He pouted.

She rolled her eyes and pulled him into an alley beside the cinema. Wrapping her arms around him, she thought of home, feeling the tug behind her bellybutton as they Apparated.

They landed softly in the backyard, and Draco pulled her in for a quick kiss.

A quiet _hoot_ came from the porch and Hermione spotted an unfamiliar owl sitting on one of the posts, a piece of parchment attached to its leg.

"Who's sending letters this late?" Draco asked, moving forward to untie the scroll from the bird's leg. She peeked around his arm, trying to read the letter with him.

"Ginny's at St. Mungos. We have to go now."

* * *

Harry had been a mess when they found him pacing in the corridor outside the delivery wing. The baby wasn't close to being born, but Ginny had forced him to leave the room until Hermione and Draco got there and could calm him down.

"Hey, Gin," Hermione said, knocking on the door frame. "How are you?"

The redhead looked over at where they were standing, her eyes glassy. "Take the potions, 'Mione. Never turn down the potions."

"Is she high?" Draco whispered to Harry.

Nodding his head, Harry replied, "Yes. Trust me, it's better this way."

Hermione moved into the room and sat in the chair next to Ginny, taking the witch's hand in hers. Staying back with Harry, Draco noticed the weariness and fatigue in his friend's eyes. "I need coffee and you look like you could use one, as well."

Leaving their wives alone, Draco led Harry down the twisting corridors to the cafeteria. Due to the late hour, it was mostly exhausted-looking witches and wizards getting something to eat or snack on.

"It's going to be alright, you know. Ginny's tough," Draco said, handing him a takeaway cup.

"It's not Ginny I'm worried about," Harry admitted, stirring a bit of sugar into his drink.

Looking up, Draco cocked an eyebrow at him. "Then why do you look like you're going to pass out at any moment?"

The other man sighed and moved to sit down on a nearby bench. He ran his hand through his hair, the black strands sticking up in all directions.

"When this baby is born, that's it. We can't go back. There's this life that's about to enter the world that's half me, and I don't want to mess him up. I want him to have a better childhood than I had."

"Your kid isn't going to grow up like you did. For one, he'll have two parents, _alive_ , that love him more than anything in the world. And he'll also have two godparents that plan on spoiling him rotten. The godparents may have already set up a nursery for him at their place, just in case his parents want a night to themselves."

"What makes you think you're the godfather?"

Draco looked at Harry knowingly. "I know I'm the godfather. I've known it since the minute Red told us she was expecting."

"Yeah, alright. We were going to ask you tomorrow when we met up, but then Ginny went into labour, and well, here we are." Harry took a long sip of his drink, the weariness in his eyes still prevalent. "Merlin, what am I going to do?"

"You love him. You make sure he knows that he's loved and wanted. You never make him feel like he's a burden to you." Draco paused, thinking of his own childhood and everything he wanted and never got. "And you hug him. I don't care how awkward you may feel hugging your son, you do it."

Harry looked over at him and then quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, yeah I will. Thanks."

Moments like these didn't happen often between the two of them. As long as he had been friends with the Gryffindors, Draco could count on a single hand how many times he and Harry had openly discussed their feelings like this. He trusted the man with his life — hell, he _owed_ the man his life, but they weren't ones to talk freely like this.

"So have you and Gin agreed on a middle name yet? Or is my godson still going to be teased at school for having the worst middle name ever?"

"We agreed _not_ to use Gaylord, though we haven't found a replacement. I suggested something from her family, like Bill or Arthur, but she said it didn't feel right with this one."

"You could just give it your name like my family does?"

"James Harry Potter sounds a bit too much like Harry James Potter, don't you think?" he joked. "Ginny would mess up our names every time she's mad at one of us."

Picturing Ginny flustered when she couldn't get the names right made Draco laugh, though he knew if he ever laughed out loud about it in front of her, she'd hex his balls off. It was enough for him to agree with Harry.

"We should head back, see how they're managing. Are you feeling any better?"

Harry nodded his head and stood up. "Yeah. Thanks for getting me out of my head a bit. I needed that."

"That's why I'm here, right? To help you out."

"True. Thanks for coming by. We didn't interrupt your evening, did we?"

"No, the letter was waiting for us when we got home from the cinema."

"The film, that's right. How was it?"

"The book was better, even if it was wildly inaccurate," Draco said with a snort. "But I still enjoyed myself. I think Hermione did too, though she still refuses to say out loud that she likes the series."

"This was our third year, right? The Time-Turner and Sirius's escape from Azkaban?"

Draco nodded. "I never got to meet the man, even if he was my cousin. My mother spoke very highly of him when I was growing up, though. Always telling me how much trouble I would get in with him if he were around."

"He was a really great man," Harry agreed. "The stories he would tell me about him and my father in school… It's a wonder they graduated at all."

"You know," Draco suggested as they approached Ginny's room. "James Sirius isn't a bad name."

The redhead looked up at them as they entered, her eyes wide. "James Sirius," she said thoughtfully. "That's… that's not half bad, ferret. And it'll be nice to honour Harry's Black family lineage with a constellation name."

Draco's jaw popped open in shock. "Wonderful idea," he drawled sarcastically. "If only someone had suggested this to you a couple of weeks ago."

"You're right," she agreed. "That person definitely deserves to be the godfather."

It wasn't exactly the apology he'd hoped for, but knowing Ginny like he did, Draco knew it was the best he was going to get.

* * *

It had been another three hours of waiting before Ginny was ready to push, and another forty minutes before the baby was born. Hermione sat with Draco and Arthur in the waiting room down the hall until a weeping Molly came out and told them the baby had arrived and was ready for visitors.

Ginny looked exhausted, like she'd just finished playing an intense Quidditch match. She looked up at them when they entered the room, beaming.

"Look at him," she whispered, staring at her sleeping son. "He's the most perfect thing in the world."

Hermione and Draco hung back while Molly and Arthur met their grandson, watching as they cooed over the tiny human, telling him how spoiled he was going to be. Harry was sitting in the bed next to Ginny, stroking the back of her hand and placing gentle kisses to her forehead.

After twenty minutes, Molly and Arthur bid them farewell, claiming they were too old to still be awake at this time of night. Ginny proudly handed Hermione the baby first, introducing her to her godson.

"Oh, Ginny, he's beautiful," Hermione said quietly, looking into the wide eyes of the boy in her arms. She felt her heart tighten with longing when she looked at him, a part of her wondering what it would feel like when it was her own child she was holding.

Draco brought his finger to James' face, stroking his cheek gently. "He looks exactly like you, Harry. Even has hair that won't lay flat."

Glaring up at her husband, Ginny mumbled, "I carry him for nine months, go through intense labour for _hours_ , and he comes out looking like you. Life just isn't fair."

James' tiny hand was wrapped around Hermione's fingers as his eyes started to close with sleep, and she couldn't help but stare. He was so small. It was hard to fathom that he was even real.

Placing a soft kiss to his head, she whispered, "You're going to be so loved, little one, by so many people. Nothing is ever going to hurt you."

"Merlin help any kid that picks on my godson," Draco murmured. His hand rested on her shoulder and squeezed tightly. "He really is beautiful."

Hermione leaned back into her husband, letting her mind wander to visions of her own future family. Images of curly blond hair running through the grass in their back garden and evenings spent reading as a family flashed in front of her.

She wanted it, more than anything.

* * *

"Have you gotten any sleep at all?" Draco asked the next morning, finding Hermione sitting on the floor of his office, surrounded by sheets of parchment.

She looked up at him, dark circles forming under her eyes. "What time is it?"

"A little after eight. What time did you wake up?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure I slept at all."

Draco carded his hand through his hair and sat on the floor across from her. "Love, you quit your job a month ago. What could you possibly need to do that kept you up all night? Please tell me you aren't stressing over that J.K. Rowling woman again."

"No, not her," Hermione said, taking a sip of coffee. "I want a family."

Trying to remain calm and not immediately rush at her with excitement, Draco pressed his lips together. "That's—"

"But I need a job first. I don't want to be one of those pureblood wives who just sits at home all day and raises the baby. It's fine for some women, but that's not me. And I don't want to start a family until I know what I'm doing with my life. _Plus_ , we're still so young." She took a deep breath. "I think I know what I want to do though, for work. Once the idea was in my mind, I couldn't sleep."

"So you've been planning?" he asked, plucking a piece of parchment from where it lay on the rug. It was full of words, some that had question marks next to them, while others were circled. There were a few that had been scratched out so aggressively she tore through the parchment. "Hermione, what is this?"

Sighing, she tucked her knees against her chest, resting her chin on her knees. "One of the things I hated most about the Ministry was the fact that I was researching what other people wanted, but never what _I_ wanted. Sure, I was making a difference, but it was never for things I was passionate about. The lists are all the people and things I want to change. I just haven't figured out _how_ I'm going to do it."

"You know," he said, scanning the list in front of him. "I inherited the Black vaults after the war, and there's a full vault that hasn't been touched in years. It might be a nice 'fuck you' to the whole family if you were to use it for something like, oh, I don't know… house-elf rights."

A small grin parted her lips and Draco admired how beautiful she was when an idea was coming to her. "I could do a whole lot of good with the Black money."

"Absolutely. It would cover all the Wizengamot fees, plus you could hire some people to do the paperwork stuff you don't like. You could focus on what you love and let someone else do the rest."

Hermione launched herself into his arms, her coffee cup tipping over onto the rug. She grabbed his face, peppering his cheeks and nose with kisses.

"I love you, you brilliant man," she breathed, her forehead pressed to his. "I promise you, we're going to start a family soon."


	13. Chapter 13

**July 2005**

Hermione was sitting at the table in the kitchen when Ron arrived. Greeting her with a quiet wave, he settled in near her, the pair watching as Molly moved through the kitchen of the Burrow in a frenzy, completely unaware of his presence.

"Where are the others?"

She jerked her head towards the backdoor. "They're out back with James, teaching him how to use his new training broom he got for his birthday."

"I'm assuming they told you not to join them since you'll panic the whole time?" he asked with a quiet chuckle.

Pouting slightly, she grumbled, "He's too young and he'll end up hurt."

Ron let out a loud laugh, startling Molly on the other side of the room. Her hand flew to her chest as she turned around to scowl at him.

"Ronald Weasley, don't sneak up on me like that! You know how much I hate when you don't announce yourself first. You're going to give me a heart attack!"

Holding up his hands in surrender, he chuckled again. "Sorry, Mum, I didn't mean to this time, honest. Not my fault you're so engrossed in cooking that you missed your favourite son coming home."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "You're lucky I can't—"

The backdoor flew open, cutting Molly off. Ginny rushed into the room holding a wailing James, who was clinging to her neck, with Draco and Harry following in her wake. Draco was holding a small broom in his hand.

"What happened?!" Hermione screeched, jumping to her feet.

"It's fine, love," Draco said. "James wanted to chase the gnomes around on his broom but Harry told him he couldn't or he'd get hurt. He threw a fit and tossed his broom at a tree. Then he tried to chew on the gnomes, which, as you can see, didn't go over too well."

She glared at Draco. "I told you it was a bad idea to have him flying this young! He doesn't understand danger."

"'Mione," Ron interrupted. "He's fine. Look, Ginny's got him settled right down."

Sure enough, James was curled up against his mother's chest, his tears having calmed into a small whimper. Ginny was stroking his back in soft circles while Harry summoned his favourite toy.

"It's alright, it's alright," Ginny soothed. "We're going to open presents soon. How does that sound?"

James' tears and whimpers stopped and his eyes lit up as if nothing had happened. "Mummy?"

"Yes, yes, Mummy will get you presents," Ginny said with a laugh. "Why don't you go with Daddy and tell everyone to come inside?"

Rubbing her temples as Harry took James back outside, Ginny looked to Molly, "We weren't this bad as children, were we?"

Molly came over and brushed her daughter's hair back. "No, sweetie, you were much worse."

* * *

Hermione laughed as Harry wiped cake off James' face, the child squealing to get away from the wet cloth.

"You could always just use a quick _Scourgify_. It would be a lot easier, you know," she suggested, watching as the toddler grabbed hold of his father's hair with frosting covered fingers.

"I wish you'd have told me that _before_ he got a hold of my hair."

Laughing again, she cast a spell on Harry's hair to clean it and another one on James' face. The toddler squealed again and clapped his hands, his little body wiggling around in the highchair.

"Are you sure you don't want to ask Molly to put James to bed and come with us? You haven't had a night out in a year."

He laughed and shook his head. "If I remember the last one correctly, I think I'd rather my first date out with Ginny as parents be somewhere a bit more relaxing than a book release. But you two will have fun."

"I suppose." She leaned forward and gave James a kiss on the cheek, grinning as he erupted in a fit of giggles. "Thank you for inviting us to James' party. He did quite well for a one-year-old."

"Only the mild tantrum earlier, though that's not new. I swear he finds every possible dangerous thing and immediately goes after it. You should see the padding we've had to put around Grimmauld Place just so he doesn't end up hurt or stuck somewhere." Harry sighed, the new parent exhaustion still prevalent in his eyes.

"Merlin help McGonagall if she's still working there when he starts at Hogwarts," Ron muttered. "Think I should warn her that Teddy has been telling him all about the Marauders?"

Harry shuddered, his eyes going wide. "I should probably start sending her apologies now for all the future things he's going to do."

"You might just push her into taking an early retirement," Hermione teased, elbowing him in the ribs.

"That's probably for the best. He's like all three of us rolled into one tiny force of nature."

"Good thing there's another ten years before he's off to school," Ron said.

"Hard to believe he's a year old already. Feels like just yesterday, you know?" Harry pushed his son's hair back off his face, admiring the brown eyes gleaming back at him.

Hermione looked at two of her oldest friends, enjoying a rare moment when it was just the three of them. "It still feels like we were just graduating Hogwarts. Yet here we are, two of us married with kids."

Ron and Harry both looked to her, their jaws dropped open. A wide grin split her face and she reached down to cover her stomach.

"You mean? You're really? You and Draco?" Ron sputtered.

Harry enveloped her into a hug, his chest rumbling with joyous laughter. "Congratulations, Hermione!"

"I'm so happy for you, 'Mione," Ron added as Harry released her from the hug.

She couldn't contain the happiness blooming within her. It had taken everything in her not to tell her boys the minute she found out, but both she and Draco felt it was better to wait.

James yelled out, throwing his hands up and grabbing for something in the air. Reaching forward, Harry plucked his son from the chair and held him against his hip. The boy thrust his hands at Harry's face, grabbing for his glasses and trying to pull them off his face.

Harry groaned and jerked his head away from his son. "James, leave Daddy's glasses alone. One day you're going to break them beyond repair."

James pouted, his bottom lip quivering as tears filled his eyes.

"Oh, come on you. You're going to have another cousin to pester," Harry teased. James didn't seem to care or understand what his father was saying. "Does Ginny know?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not yet. I wasn't planning on telling you today, what with it being James' birthday and all, but the three of us aren't alone together often. It just felt like the right time."

"Right time for what?" Ginny asked, entering the kitchen with Draco in tow.

Feeling hands slide around her waist to her stomach, Hermione tilted her head back to rest against her husband's chest. He leaned down to place a kiss to her cheek. "You told them?"

"Told them what?" Ginny asked again.

Ignoring her, Hermione gave him an apologetic smile and nodded her head. "You can tell Ginny if you want."

"Tell me _what?_ Is someone going to clue me in?"

"I don't know," Ron interjected. "It's kind of fun watching her get annoyed that we know something she doesn't."

Ginny huffed. "Ron, I will hex you if you don't shut up."

"You couldn't even if you wanted to!"

"Don't tempt me. I don't care what Mum says about hexes in the house, I'll do it and I won't even feel bad."

Hermione looked up at her husband, grinning. "You should probably just tell her before she does something she'll regret."

He leaned forward and rested his chin on the top of her head. "Hey, Red, Hermione's pregnant."

The redheaded witch spun around, all her attention on Hermione and Draco. The anger faded from her face as quickly as it had risen, having been replaced with pure excitement. Blinking rapidly, Ginny pulled Hermione from Draco's arms and into a hug.

"You're going to be a mum?" Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. "I don't know why I'm crying this much, I'm just so happy for you both. But I thought you weren't ready for a family yet?"

"Well, both of our jobs are going well and that was the biggest hesitation for me. With that gone… it just felt like the right time," Hermione explained.

"I can't wait to spoil my little niece or nephew. But, in the meantime, I have a little boy that needs to get home. Thank you both for coming today." Ginny turned to Harry and took James from her husband's arms. "Say goodbye, James."

The boy waved to everyone, puckering his lips to blow kisses as they left, though he looked more like a fish. Hermione's heart tightened at the sight, knowing that in less than a year she would have her own child to hold.

"Ready to go?" Draco asked, his arms wrapping around her torso again. Since finding out he was going to be a father, he had barely been able to keep his hands off her, constantly amazed at all the subtle changes.

She nodded her head, twisting in his arms so she was facing him. Guiding her onto her toes, Draco pressed their lips together softly.

"Still here," Ron interjected. "I mean, I know I practically blend into the wall, but really?"

Breaking the kiss, Draco looked over her head at Ron, smirking. "Oh, I know. I just didn't care."

"Sorry, Ron," Hermione added sheepishly. "It was really nice to see you again. I'll be sure to make it up to Scotland before school starts and you get busy."

They said their goodbyes to everyone else before leaving the Burrow, taking the time to tell Molly and Arthur their news. They were both elated, promising them that their child would be treated just like any other Weasley grandchild.

* * *

Stepping through the Floo into their living room, Hermione felt the exhaustion of the day hit her.

She loved her godson and all his cousins, but it had been tiring chasing them through the meadows around the Weasley property.

"Are you sure you want to go tonight? We can always just go into London tomorrow and get a copy when the shops open," Draco suggested, eyeing her as she yawned.

Shaking her head, she smiled up at him. "I'll be alright. If I take a Pepper-Up Potion before we go, I'll have no problem making it through to midnight."

"Alright," he said wearily. "But you're not staying up all night reading it. I don't want you to make yourself sick again."

She sighed, knowing he was right. She had a bad habit of throwing herself into a project and forgetting to do basic things like eating and sleeping; now with a baby on the way, it was even more important that she take care of herself.

Ever since opening her own nonprofit to help fight unjust laws, she had been trying to stop herself from working after hours, though Draco would still find her in her office in the wee hours of the morning from time to time. After finding out she was expecting, she had increased her staffing so that she could truly keep to an eight hour work day.

It didn't help that even after three years of searching, she was still no closer to discovering how J.K. Rowling had gotten ahold of their story. She had tried reaching out to McGonagall to see if there were any Hogwarts records that might lead to a match, but without proper paperwork or real information to go off of, the headmistress wasn't able to give her any information.

Over the years, the fanbase behind the Harry Potter series had tripled in size, and Hermione was finding it hard to go into Muggle London without seeing some sort of merchandise with the name on it. But with every new follower, J.K. Rowling seemed to retreat further and further away from the media. She no longer went to bookshops or did interviews in person.

Though it pained her to give up on the search, it felt like she'd hit dead end after dead end. The choice became either giving up on sleep altogether or putting the mystery of J.K. Rowling to rest until new information came to light.

Knowing that they wouldn't be able to Apparate anywhere close to the bookshop they were going to for the midnight release of the sixth book, Hermione suggested they walk there.

Pouting, he looked at her with wide eyes. "Are you _sure_ we can't just Apparate somewhere around the corner? We could cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm."

"We can't risk it, Draco. The media has been talking about this book nonstop for the last two years. Everyone wants to know what's going to happen next."

"Fine, we'll walk," he agreed, motioning for her to step through the Floo first.

As soon as they stepped into Muggle London, Hermione immediately regretted not trying to find somewhere closer to Apparate. The streets were full of people dressed in cloaks and homemade shirts. She spotted more than a handful of people with round glasses and poorly drawn scars on their foreheads.

"It looks like they used the same decorations as last year," Draco grumbled when they finally got to shop.

Hermione took in the gaudy decorations, trying not to laugh at the amount of Gryffindor colours spread around.

"Care to get sorted by the Sorting Hat, love?" asked an older woman wearing a pointy black hat.

"Uh," Hermione hesitated, looking at Draco. "Sure, let's go."

Tugging his hand over to where a group of people had gathered, they stood and waited in line. An older woman, dressed like McGonagall, was standing at the front of the group with a battered up hat that looked exactly like the Sorting Hat. People were going up one at a time and sitting on the stool in front of her to have the hat placed on their heads. It was clear the woman loved watching the patrons squirm with impatience before calling out the results.

It was usually Gryffindor.

Draco would lean forward and whisper in her ear just before someone was sorted, trying to guess which house they actually belonged in. He was convinced half the people up there were really Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws that were too embarrassed to say otherwise.

When it was their turn, Hermione pushed Draco forward, making him go first. He sat on the chair and eyed her, waiting for the inevitable.

"Ah yes, the Sorting Hat is very sure about you," the older woman said. "Why, you must be a Gryffindor!"

The crowd cheered and Draco accepted the Gryffindor pin that the woman handed to him. He switched places with Hermione, letting her move forward to sit on the stool.

Draco smirked at her as the hat was placed upon her head and mouthed the word, 'Gryffindor'.

"Of course, you must be"—the woman paused—"Slytherin!"

Trying not to laugh, Hermione stood from the stool and accepted her pin graciously. She noticed Draco pouting at the pin in her hand.

"I guess it's not _always_ Gryffindor," she teased, handing him the green pin. "Give me that. We both know I'm no snake."

Taking the red pin from him, she led them through the crowd to the other activities. Just as Draco had described last year, there was a "Best Harry Potter Look-alike" contest set up.

With Draco's arms wrapped around her waist, Hermione leaned back to watch all the people imitate her best friend. They were all dressed in the type of costume Hermione had seen in shop windows; a black cloak with red trim and thick round glasses. Some had wands that looked similar to the one Harry had used while in school.

"And what's your name?" the host asked a young girl in the middle of the lineup.

"Sarah."

Hermione tilted her head, eyeing the girl. There was something different about her. Her robes didn't look fake, and the Hogwarts crest sewed on the front didn't shine in the light the same way the others did.

"And how old are you, Sarah?"

Sarah stood a little taller. "Fourteen."

"Oh shit," Hermione cursed under her breath, stepping away from Draco and squinting at the girl. "There's no way."

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"I think that's her, the girl from the bookshop. The one I was telling you about that stood up to the author."

"That was years ago. Are you sure?"

"Well, she has the same name. But there's something about her. Look at the crest on her robes."

"You don't think…"

"I don't think it's impossible. I'm honestly surprised there aren't more witches and wizards here. It's amazing that the Ministry hasn't heard about the books and had them stripped from all the shelves in Britain."

"Do you think they're in on it? Like maybe J.K. Rowling is actually an Unspeakable and this is the way the Ministry is trying to see if the Muggle world is ready to be introduced to magic again?"

Hermione turned and looked at her husband, eyes narrowed. "How much thought have you put into that theory?"

He shrugged. "It just came to me."

"That's highly specific for something that just came to you."

"Okay, so I've been thinking about it for a while. All this talk of our younger years and seeing again how people like Fudge and Skeeter handled everything, it got me thinking that maybe they might be behind it all. Not to mention the fact that she's all but disappeared the past few years."

Hermione stepped up on her toes and placed a kiss to Draco's lips. "You're brilliant. I can't believe I didn't think of that myself."

She turned back around, looking for Sarah in the crowd, but the girl was gone. It was as if she had vanished.

One of the shop workers walked past them, telling the crowd that they were beginning to let people line up for when the book released at midnight. She turned to speak to Hermione and Draco and then paused.

"Oh," she said shocked, staring at the couple. Her eyes widened and she shook her head, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry! That was so rude of me."

"It's alright," Hermione said cautiously. "Can we help you with anything?"

"No, no. I didn't mean to stare. It's just… Oh, it's embarrassing."

Flashing her a kind smile, Hermione said, "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not that embarrassing."

"Well, you see. People love these books _so much_. And they — well, some people — have started writing stories based on them."

"Stories about a story?" Draco asked.

"Yes, it's called fanfiction. And people like to write alternate universes where the events happen differently. Some people like to write about what would have happened if Harry was a Slytherin, for example, while others like to write about what Harry's parents were like."

Hermione remembered a similar conversation from the last time Draco went to a book release. "Is Drarry also part of fanfiction?"

"So you do know about it," the woman laughed nervously. "Yes, Drarry is part of it, but my favourite stories are the ones about Hermione and Draco dating. Dramione."

"Dramione?" Draco asked. "Wait. There are stories about us — uh, _Hermione and Draco_ — dating?"

"Yes! Lots of them. People feel like Draco is painted to be a villain when in reality he's just a product of his upbringing. Both he and Hermione seem to be quite smart and very protective of their own. I'm sure that if Draco could look past his prejudice they would have made a great couple. I'm still holding out that in book six we see them get together." The woman stopped prattling on, her face flushing again. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say all that. It's just, you look so much like how I imagine the characters."

Unsure of what to say to the woman, Hermione remained quiet. She wanted to tell the woman that she was correct about it all; that Draco _had_ learned to look past his prejudice and that they _did_ become a great couple.

The weight of what would happen if the Ministry found out she had broken the Statue of Secrecy was heavier than the desire to tell this woman she was right. So instead, Hermione kept her lips sealed tight.

"Thank you! I'm so glad someone agrees with me that the little twit they have playing Draco Malfoy in the movies just isn't cutting it. They should hire me to play Draco in the later movies," Draco said with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked Draco in the chest with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry about my husband. He's just bitter that Draco is portrayed as the villain."

The woman laughed and then reminded them that the book release would be happening momentarily so they should line up.

"Remind me to owl Harry when we get home," Draco said as they waited for the clock to hit midnight.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Why would you owl Harry after midnight? He'll be asleep."

"Because," he said with a smirk. "Dramione is a much better name than Drarry, and he really ought to know."

* * *

**August 2005**

Draco's breathing hitched and he closed the book, setting it down in his lap.

Lifting her head, Hermione peered at him over her own reading. "Are you alright?"

"I can't do it," he replied numbly. His heart was racing in his chest and he could feel sweat beading along his brow. "I didn't realise how hard it would be."

"Which part are you at?"

Opening the book to where he remembered he last was, he scanned the page again quickly. "Katie Bell, the — the necklace."

Moving over on the sofa so she was closer to him, she took the book and set it down on the small coffee table in front of them. "I should have warned you about it all before you started reading."

Draco carded his hand through his hair. "No, it's alright. I didn't think it would be this hard to read."

"A lot happened in sixth year. It's alright to be overwhelmed by the memories of it," Hermione said, taking his free hand in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"That's the thing, though," he said, shaking his head. "I _can't_ remember it. I have these glimpses of things, but so much is just hazy. It's like someone Obliviated me."

The gentle movements of her thumb on the back of his hand stilled. Silence stretched on between them as Draco processed his thoughts.

Finally, he spoke again. "It's all accurate, isn't it?"

Hermione hesitated, her teeth coming down to chew on her bottom lip nervously. Her eyes left his, looking somewhere over his shoulder.

"Just tell me. I did that to Katie? And Harry's bloody nose on the train? That all happened, didn't it?"

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and she nodded her head once. "Yes." It was barely a whisper.

Closing his eyes, he ran over the things he _could_ remember from sixth year.

_A party. Being attacked by Potter in the bathroom. The Astronomy Tower._

"The things that you did that year… you have to understand that they weren't your fault. It wasn't really _you_ who did those things." Hermione's voice was quiet but steady. She brought her hand to his face, stroking his cheek. "Draco, you did what you had to do to save your mother. No one faults you for that."

"I wish I had just stood up to him that day. Told him to go to hell and then ran."

"If you did that, you know he would have killed you both, and then Harry. The war would have been over and we'd all be dead. You did the ri—"

Draco opened quickly, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Don't say it was the right thing to do. You know as well as I do that you would have done things differently if you'd been in my place."

"We don't know that," she whispered. "You were protecting the people you love."

Letting out a scoff, Draco rolled his eyes. The feeling of rage and panic bubbled up inside him. Not at his wife or what she was saying; no, it was aimed at his younger self. The one who didn't think through every outcome before making a decision. How many times had he blindly run around trying to protect his mother or Hermione?

"Don't finish it," Hermione said, gesturing to the book on the table. "You already know what happens."

"I need to, I just… maybe not today. Or this year." He paused, finally looking her in the eyes and seeing the concern within their depths. "I think it might help me cope with the missing gaps. It's not perfect, but it's something I can visualise."

Moving closer to him on the sofa, she rested her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his torso. It wasn't until after the war that he truly realised how much physical touch calmed him, and Hermione was all too willing to give that to him. She knew that something as simple as a hug or her hand over his was like the best safety blanket, stronger than any Shield Charm.

"Take your time, love. There's no rush."

He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve her love, but he was eternally thankful for every bit of it.

* * *

**November 2005**

"So dinner, and then the movie, and then we go for drinks," Ginny said, bouncing on her toes. "It's our first night out without James and I am _ready_ for it."

"Gin, your idea of a late night is staying up past eight. Are you sure you'll even be able to make it through a movie that doesn't start until eight-thirty?" Hermione asked, shaking her head at her friend's excitement, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Of course I can! I took a nap, I've got a Pepper-Up Potion in my bag, and I am ready!"

Hermione laughed and shook her head at her friend. "I think you're forgetting that I'm seven months pregnant _and_ you're not far behind me."

Running her hand over her own bump, Ginny pouted. "Why, _why_ , did I let Harry convince me it was a good idea to have two so close together? I miss being able to see my feet."

"At least James will have a sibling. I know Harry always wished for someone else growing up. One that wasn't Dudley, I should say." Hermione looked at the clock on her nightstand, noticing the time. "We should get going or we'll miss our reservations."

As they entered the sitting room, Draco stood and smiled. "You look lovely."

She rolled her eyes. "It's just jeans and a jumper. Nothing too fancy."

He ran his hands over her hips and cupped her bottom, her large belly keeping him at bay. "Maybe not, but your Muggle clothing makes your arse look fantastic."

"I look like a whale," Hermione muttered.

She knew there were still two more months in her pregnancy and she wanted to enjoy that time with Draco, but the pain and aches she felt all over were putting a damper on her mood. The bed was overflowing with pillows of various sizes and she was taking more potions a day than she ever thought possible.

"You're beautiful, love." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

She ducked her head out of the way, glaring at him. "You don't have to lie to me, Draco."

Harry laughed from the other side of the room where he was helping his wife put on her coat. "Remember last year when I told you that Hermione would hex you for calling her pretty?"

Not bothering to see how this played out, Harry took some Floo powder and stepped through the fireplace, Ginny following behind.

Hermione reached for the Floo powder only to be stopped by Draco's fingers wrapping around her elbow. Turning to glare at him, she was halted when she saw the dejection in his eyes.

"What, Draco?"

His voice was quiet and uncertain. "I'm not lying to you or telling you things just to make you feel better. I mean every single word of it. You're carrying our child and running a company and doing amazing things for the wizarding world. How could I not find that beautiful?"

Guilt weighed heavy in her stomach as she thought of how she'd been treating him lately. It wasn't his fault that everything hurt, even though she liked to tell him it was every time she got up in the night to use the loo.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I'm just ready for him to be here and not be in so much pain and — oh my gods, he needs to stop kicking my bladder."

Dropping to his knees, Draco placed his hands on either side of her belly. "Little man, I need you to stop kicking Mummy, alright? We're going on a date tonight and I'd really like it if she didn't hex my balls off before the end of the evening."

She couldn't help but laugh at his words. The pressure inside her lifted just as it always did when Draco spoke. He had begun reading to her belly every night before bed in hopes that the baby would let her sleep for a little bit.

"Thank you. He's settled down now." She gave him a soft smile, running her hand through his hair.

He placed a quick kiss to the centre of her bump before rubbing it softly. "Good job, Scorpius."

"Uh," Hermione hesitated. "Let's talk about that name later."

* * *

They had agreed that Muggle London would be a better place to go for dinner since they were less likely to get harassed by reporters there. Since Ginny had given birth to James the year before, the papers had been after them for photos and updates on how he was doing. Now with the first Malfoy baby on the way, followed by another Potter, the _Daily Prophet_ was relentless for information.

"Was this the book where they really started to get it all wrong?" Harry asked once they were seated at their table.

"If you take into account that we didn't speak to Draco for a few months, then it was actually quite accurate. It's the parts when we _were_ speaking that were wrong," Hermione said, opening her menu to browse.

"The ferret part is in there right?" Ginny asked, her eyes alight with mischief.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, Red. The ferret part — as you so adequately named it — was in the novel."

"Oh good!" she replied, grinning. "I'm still upset that I wasn't there to see it happen the first time. I missed all the fun stuff being a year younger."

"You were there for a lot of it in our later years," Hermione added, closing her menu and setting it back on the table.

"I know but the ferret incident of 1994 and the cat incident of 1992 are classics!"

The waitress came and took their orders before he was able to remind Ginny, again, about why it wasn't fun. Draco knew she meant well, but it was often hard to get others to understand _why_ the few minutes he spent as a ferret had been so traumatic for him. People didn't seem to realise that the injuries he suffered while a rodent had stayed injured when he was transformed back.

Not that he would ever admit it out loud, but he was certain his sense of smell had increased since that day.

* * *

Draco was trying to pay attention to the film, really, he was. But it was so hard to really focus on the plot or dialogue when all he could see was _that hair_.

Who on earth thought that he would style his hair like that? It was mortifying to even think of all the people who would now believe that's what he once looked like. At least in the earlier films, they had styled his hair gelled back, something he had in fact done as a child. But by fourth year, Hermione had smacked him over the head and told him to stop using so much product because it made him look like a prat. There was no way she wouldn't have said something to him for having a side part and _bangs_. Not fringe. Bangs.

If he was honest, the hair for Harry and Ron weren't much better. While he knew they would admit to having atrocious hair in their youth, this was something else. It looked as if the actor playing Harry hadn't seen a barber in years.

It was all so unfair, especially when he looked at the actress who played his wife. They looked nothing alike but their mannerisms were so similar. He could see the fire in her eyes when she yelled at Harry and Ron during their stupid fight and watched in awe as she stood up for herself.

There was so much of that year that he missed out on because he was too stupid to admit his feelings for her. So as wildly inaccurate as most of the film was, especially considering the fact that much of the book had been removed from the plot, it was still nice for him to see the pieces he had missed out on.

Part way through, Hermione reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The music had shifted into a waltz, suddenly transporting him back to the Yule Ball, reminding him of that evening. It was the first time he had seen her with her curls tamed, wearing something delicate and form fitting. If he hadn't already loved her, seeing her that night would have done it.

He wished he had just asked her to dance that evening; that he had apologised to Harry and then pulled her onto the dance floor and shown her how a proper wizard dances with his witch. Nothing like the way Krum danced with her. No, Draco would have swept her off her feet, giving them more time together.

When the lights of the cinema came on, he immediately stood, holding his hand out to help Hermione to her feet.

"What did you think?" she asked nervously.

"It was easier to watch than I expected," he admitted. "It felt like they cut so much of that year out; almost like it was watching someone else's school year."

Linking her fingers with his, Hermione led them through the crowd of people, Ginny and Harry not far behind. "The courtyard scene was harder to watch than I expected," Hermione muttered.

"I'm sorry about that," Ginny said, nudging Draco in the ribs. "I've always teased you about it, but I didn't realise how truly awful that must have been to actually go through it."

"Certainly not high up on my list of favourite memories. Though, I think it's still better than what Potter went through in the graveyard." A chill rippled down Draco's body at the thought of what Harry's experience had been like.

The other wizard let out a humourless laugh, pulling his hair down over his glamoured scar self-consciously. "If it's all the same, I'd rather just skip over that scene. It was hard enough having to live through it, read about it, and then watch a film depicting it." Harry turned to Draco and lifted an eyebrow. "How was it actually seeing your father there for parts of it?

"That wasn't my father. My father is dead; he died a long time ago," he replied firmly. Like Harry, he didn't need to discuss in detail how it had felt to see his father's character speak to Voldemort in that way.

He had experienced it enough firsthand.

"I'm confused, though," Ginny said, pulling him from his thoughts. "If your friendship doesn't exist in the books or films, what happens during fifth year and the Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Oh, you'll love this. Apparently Draco…"

Tuning out his wife's play-by-play of everything the book got wrong about their relationship, he thought of everything that was to come, of everything that had been written about their sixth year.

He wasn't ready for that. He wasn't sure if he ever would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! We're back to sixth year next week to find out what's happened to Draco after the events at the Manor.


	14. FLASHBACK: Sixth Year part 1

**September 1996**

She hadn't heard from Draco all summer. It wasn't unusual not to hear from him during the holidays, but coupled with the fact that she had watched him go into Borgin and Burkes, Hermione was beginning to worry something was going on.

"I'm going to go find him," she said to Ron after their Prefect's meeting.

He nodded his head and gave her an uneasy smile. "I'm sure he was just running late today and that's why you didn't see him on the platform."

While his intentions were pure, Hermione knew that Ron was incorrect. She had watched him arrive with one of their elves, keeping an eye on him so she could slip over and greet him without hundreds of nosy parents looking. But rather than wait as he had for the past two years, he took his trunk and boarded the train without so much as a glance in her direction.

And it broke her heart.

Something wasn't right. Something had happened over the summer holiday that made him change his mind about her. Was it because they'd had sex? Did he see her as lesser than because of that?

"You're probably right," she muttered, her heart not in it.

Making her way towards the back of the train, she peered into each compartment, keeping her eye out for a head of platinum blond. She thought he might be somewhere near the middle where Crabbe and Goyle usually sat with some of the other Slytherin students.

A smooth female voice drifted out from one of the open compartments, stilling Hermione's footsteps. Pansy Parkinson.

"I'm just _so_ glad you finally pulled your head out of your arse, Draco. You've spent too much with those Gryffindors and not where you truly belong... with us."

"It was a momentary lapse in judgement but I've realised now how important it is to stick with your own kind." She could hear the cruelty in his voice, something that had gone away when they became friends.

Steeling her nerves, Hermione moved forward until she was standing at the door of the compartment. Draco was sitting closest to the window with Pansy leaning against his arm, looking at him as if he hung the moon. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott sat on the opposite bench alongside Daphne Greengrass, watching Pansy and Draco's interaction.

Theo was the first to notice her. "What are you looking at, Mudblood?" he sneered, his upper lip curling the same way Draco's used to.

"I—I," she stammered, her tongue feeling as if it had grown in size.

Draco finally looked over at her, blinked, and then turned away again. His eyes were a dull grey, though not quite lifeless. She had seen a similar look when he returned from Easter Hols, though he had never told her why, leaving her to make assumptions.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pressed her lips together and fought back the tears that built up. She wouldn't give the others the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"Nevermind then." Her voice was quiet as she retreated, the sounds of laughter chasing her down the aisle.

She caught up to Ron just as he was opening the door to the compartment where Harry, Neville, and Luna were waiting. No one asked her why she looked like she might throw up, though Luna gave her a peculiar look as if to peer into her soul.

"I hope the trolley hurries up. I'm starving," Ron complained. "Did you find Draco?"

Unable to say the words allowed, she merely nodded her head before reaching into her bag to pull out a book.

"Well?" Harry asked, giving her a pointed look. "What happened? Why isn't he here?"

"I don't know, Harry," she said shortly.

Tuning out the remainder of the trip, Hermione let her mind race through all the reasons Draco might be acting the way he was. She kept rereading the same passage in her book over and over again, barely retaining any of it.

When they arrived at Hogsmeade Station, she made her way off the train. Voices around her were muffled and the faces all blurred. She wasn't even sure if her friends were with her as she made her way over to the carriages.

"He's just a little lost, you know," Luna said, pulling Hermione from her trance.

Shaking her head to clear the fog, she blinked up at the other girl. "What? Sorry, Luna. I wasn't really paying attention."

"That's alright. I can see the Wrackspurts. I imagine they'll clear eventually."

"Right. Uh, thanks." Hermione stared at the ground, numbly fidgeting with the sleeve of her robes, hoping the feast would go by quickly so she could find Draco and talk to him without anyone listening.

* * *

Draco came into the Great Hall late, immediately sitting with his new 'friends'. Hermione watched as he told some grand story, pausing his movements for his cohorts to laugh. He didn't look at her once.

When Harry appeared later, after missing the opening speech and sorting, she knew something had happened. His face was covered in blood, though it looked to be his own this time. Sparing a glance at the Slytherin table, she saw Draco miming an outlandish story, a proud smirk lighting his features.

"What happened?" she asked, panicked.

Harry shook his head, his eyes not quite meeting hers as he reached forward to pile food onto his plate. Throughout dinner Hermione would glance over at him, hoping he would send her some type of silent clue as to what had happened, but he never did.

She had tuned out much of Dumbledore's speech, only beginning to pay attention when it was clear he was ending the feast.

"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say goodnight. Pip Pip."

Jumping up from her seat, she dashed out of the Great Hall, not bothering to explain to Harry and Ron where she was going. She figured they would assume she was off to do her Prefect rounds.

There was a small alcove halfway to the dungeons where she knew she could wait for him and hopefully pull him away from the others. The sound of voices filled the corridor as a group of younger Slytherins walked past, led by one of their Prefects. Her heart hammered in her chest as time dragged on.

She caught the sound of Theo's voice first. "Did you see the look on his face?"

Whoever was walking with him burst into laughter and her breath caught when she heard a familiar chuckle fill the air around her.

Draco was leading the group, flanked by Blaise and Theo. His chest was puffed out and he had his signature smirk plastered on his face.

"You should have seen the look on his face when I broke his nose," he said. "I've never seen precious Potter so scared before."

So that was what had happened to Harry. But there was no way. It couldn't have been Draco, not her Draco. He would never hurt Harry. They were friends.

Her hands shook as she debated what to do. She wanted to believe that what Draco was saying wasn't true, but with the amount of blood on Harry's face when he entered the Great Hall, it wasn't looking good. Who else could have caused his injuries?

"What do you think his Mudblood will do when she finds out?" Pansy asked, letting out a delicate laugh.

There was a pause and Hermione hoped and prayed to whatever deity was listening that Draco would defend her, that he would snap out of it.

His voice rang clear, slicing the air with a sense of superiority. "Why would I care what she thinks? She's nothing to me."

Sinking to the floor of the alcove, she let the tears that fell stain her robes, her empty lungs failing to suck in air. His words floated around her, taunting her.

_She's nothing to me_. _She's nothing to me. She's nothing to me._

Calling her Mudblood when they were twelve was one thing, but this was something else. This was gutting.

This wasn't Draco.

* * *

The next morning brought fresh challenges; Hermione realised that she would have to see Draco in classes every day. They had talked at the end of fifth year about what classes they wanted to take, each of them hoping to sit for as many NEWTs as possible.

She spent the better part of the morning absorbing what Harry had told her of the events on the train. It confirmed what Draco had said, which only twisted the knot in her stomach even further. Throwing herself into her classes, she tried to ignore the blond sitting at the back of the room. She ignored the snicker that came from the corner when Harry got in trouble with Snape and the laughter that came from the Slytherin table during lunch.

Potions with Slughorn felt like a breath of fresh air. She could focus on learning and creating and not have to worry about Snape belittling her for being smart. She was so excited that she almost forgot about Draco. For just a few moments, her mind was clear, able to recall all of the information about each potion Slughorn asked about. There was even a feeling of pride when he asked about Polyjuice Potion and he explained how complex it was. She could practically brew it in her sleep now.

"Now, this one here?" Slughorn asked, pointing to one of the cauldrons.

"Amortentia," she replied clearly, letting her brain take over. "It's the most powerful love potion in the world. It's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us. I can smell new parchment, warm tea, and—and—"

_And the quidditch pitch after it rained, the smell of clean robes and minty toothpaste. The scent of his cologne._

Slughorn's voice interrupted her hesitation. "May I ask your name, my dear?"

"Hermione Granger, sir," she replied, feeling heat blossom in her cheeks.

"Wonderful, twenty points for Gryffindor!" the jolly man proclaimed, drowning out the hushed whispers from Draco and Theo in the back of the room.

She didn't give them the satisfaction of turning around. Instead, she kept her head forward, focused on the task at hand. She would deal with Draco when they weren't surrounded by a potent love potion.

* * *

**October 1996**

Katie Bell had been cursed and Harry was convinced it was Draco, but Hermione just wasn't buying it.

"He wasn't even there, Harry! McGonagall said so herself. Why do you keep thinking Draco's behind everything?" she yelled.

The common room was empty, save for the three of them, while everyone else was still down in the village. Harry paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, as Hermione and Ron sat on one of the sofas, exchanging looks of disbelief.

"I just know it! There was something about the way he was acting when we saw him at Borgin and Burkes over the summer, and again on the train. This isn't the same Malfoy we were friends with. Something's happened." Harry stopped in front of them and he rubbed at his scar absent-mindedly. "You didn't hear what his father said in the Department of Mysteries. Lucius looked right at me and asked if I really believed Draco was my friend. There was something about his tone — like he was trying to tell me we were being tricked."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. No, she wouldn't believe it. No matter what Draco was doing now, she refused to accept that he had always been like this. If she let her mind believe that, then everything he had ever told her was a lie. Every kiss, every brush of hands in the library, all the stolen moments together... none of it had been real.

"I know that's what you want to think but — but—" She paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm her emotions. "He wasn't always like this."

"No," Ron said suddenly, his head in his hands. "I can't believe I'm saying this but, Harry, you can't really think that Malfoy was always on Voldemort's side? Or that he would curse someone?"

"He had to have gotten help. Crabbe or Goyle — or maybe Zabini or Nott. He's been spending more time with them since the beginning of the school year. Come on, Hermione, tell me you haven't noticed a change?"

She couldn't take it anymore. She had spent weeks trying to figure out what was going on with Draco, hoping that he would find her and tell her it was all a big joke. But with each passing day, her hopes dropped more and more, until she finally believed it was all over.

Perhaps the last two and a half years had all been a fever dream.

Standing up from the couch, she collected her bag. "I don't care. Let him do what he wants. Dra — _Malfoy_ , has made it clear that he no longer wants anything to do with us."

* * *

**November 1996**

Even without the use of Felix Felicis, Ron was able to help win the Quidditch match for Gryffindor. Hermione knew she should be happy for her friend and his triumph, but it was becoming increasingly hard when Ron's mood had been so sour.

They were back to fighting constantly and she had no idea how to stop it.

"Hermione! There you are," greeted Lavender, handing Hermione a bottle of Butterbeer. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Taking a long drink, Hermione smiled at her dorm mate. They had maintained a steady friendship since fourth year with minimal fighting. Hermione even considered Lavender a friend, which was not something she ever thought possible.

"You're not dating Ron, right?" Lavender asked, hopeful.

Sputtering a laugh, Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. "Me and Ronald? Dating? I thought you would know me better by now," she teased.

Relief flooded the other girl's features. "Oh good! I was actually hoping to call in that favour you promised me from a couple of years ago?" Her eyes shifted to the centre of the room where Ron was dancing wildly, a light blush filling her cheeks.

"Honestly, Lav, I think you could probably walk up and snog him right now and he'd be over the moon."

"Really? That's not too forward? I've been trying to get his attention for weeks now and it's like he doesn't even know I'm flirting!"

Hermione laughed, the buzz of her drink hitting her system. "Ron has been known to have the emotional range of a teaspoon. I think he _needs_ forward sometimes."

Lavender's cheeks darkened as she eyed Ron, contemplating. She took another sip of her drink before setting it on a nearby table. Taking a quick breath, she marched over to the tall ginger before slipping her hands around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

The room erupted in cheers as Ron brought his hands down to her waist, deepening the kiss.

"Did you do that?" asked Harry, motioning to the couple.

"Yeah, Ron's been a prat lately but I know Lavender will make him happy if he can just get his head out of his arse. He deserves to be happy."

"So do you, Hermione." He gave her a pointed look, waiting for her to respond. "Come on, let's go somewhere quieter. I saw Ginny and Dean snogging and I'd rather not watch that."

The pair made their way down Gryffindor Tower. Finding a large window overlooking the courtyard, they sat down with their backs pressed against the opposite wall. The music from the party was still beating faintly in the distance, the quiet leaving Hermione with the empty feeling she had become all too familiar with.

Raising her wand, Hermione conjured small yellow birds. She watched as they moved through the air, each of them knowing exactly where they belonged. There was nothing missing from their dance.

"Has he—"

"No, Harry," she interrupted. "He hasn't. I haven't spoken to him at all this year. Every time I get close, it's like I'm back in second year and he's looking down on me. He's made it very clear that I'm nothing to him anymore."

Harry rested his head on her shoulder, his steady breathing relaxing her. "He's not himself. I know you don't want to admit it, but he's up to something."

"I don't want to talk about it tonight, please. I just — I just can't keep doing this. I can't keep feeling so broken anymore. I gave _everything_ to him and he's just… he left me without a word." Tears burned in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill. She had lost count of how many times she had cried this year alone.

The steady thrum of music grew louder and then quieted again as if someone had opened the common room door. Ron and Lavender stumbled into the corridor, their hands linked together. They both looked properly snogged.

Ron stopped in his tracks, taking in Hermione's appearance. "What's happened?"

She shook her head, not wanting to take him away from his time with Lavender. "It's nothing, Ron," she insisted. "I'm very happy for you both."

"No. No, tell me what's going on." When she didn't respond, he continued, "Come on, 'Mione. You always tell Harry these things, but never me."

" _Go, Ronald_. I don't want to talk about this with you."

"Let's leave them alone," Lavender said, tugging on his sleeve. When Ron didn't budge, she sighed and turned to leave. "I'll be in the common room if you need me."

Ron's face grew red, the shade almost matching his hair. "I'm not second best!"

"I never said you were!" Hermione yelled back. Overwhelmed with the pain of losing Draco and trying to navigate Ron's growing insecurities, she flicked her wrist so the fluttering birds stopped moving, their tiny beaks aimed at him.

Ron was in a right enough state to be scared, a brief moment of fear flashing across his blue eyes.

Narrowing her eyes, her voice low and threatening, she said,"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting."

He opened his mouth to start speaking again. "Hermione, I—"

" _Oppugno!_ " she yelled, moving her wand again.

The birds flew at Ron, chasing him down the corridor, his yelps echoing back to where Hermione and Harry were still sitting.

After a few moments, Harry placed his head back on her shoulder.

"Everything?" he asked quietly.

Recalling their conversation from before Ron interrupted, Hermione replied with a whisper, "Everything."

"Want me to kill him?" he teased half-heartedly.

A hollow laugh slipped through her lips, her voice cracking when she spoke. "No, Harry. But I appreciate the offer."

* * *

**December 1996**

_Build your walls. Focus, Draco, focus._

He pushed against the fog in his mind, trying to stack enough bricks to clear it away. With every new layer in his walls, the fog became less and less transparent. He was stuck, unable to move from the box he'd created for himself.

_Mother. Hermione._

What had happened to them?

Shoving against the fog once more, Draco saw it shimmer, wisps of grey pulling away from him. It felt like he was waking up from a stint in the hospital wing — no recollection of how he'd gotten there. He wasn't even sure where he was, though he could make out the outline of a large cabinet to his right.

Taking advantage of the small piece of clarity, he tore from the room and out into an empty corridor. He wasn't sure where he was going, or what he was going to do when he found what he needed, but he sure as hell knew he wasn't going to be sitting and waiting in a strange room for the fog to return.

He fought with himself, his base instincts pulling him to return to the room, but he wanted to find her. Hermione would know what was happening, right?

The further he got from the room, the more the fog pushed back against him, enticing him back towards the cabinet. Anything to keep his mind clear. He focused on the centre of the fog, where the clearest point was. If he squinted, the objects focused more, like he was trying to see something far away. He tried to add more bricks to his walls — anything to make the clearing bigger.

"You, boy!" a garbled voice shouted in the distance, pulling his attention away from his building walls.

Unsure of who was speaking to him, he remained motionless. The desire to move was absent, his legs frozen as if the choice to move them was not his own. A cold hand gripped his ear, dragging him away.

"Prof… horn… covered...lur...dor...party...invi…"

The words were unclear, garbled and staticy. But it didn't matter.

There she was.

At the epicenter of his mind's clearing stood Hermione. Beautiful as ever in a red dress, looking like the perfect Gryffindor Princess.

He wanted to hold her, to talk to her, to find out what had happened to him.

"All right, I wasn't invited. I was trying to gatecrash, happy?" It was his voice speaking, but he couldn't remember his brain telling his mouth to move.

The fog began to settle back in and he couldn't clear it. His walls were failing him and she was slipping away.

A piece of his wall crumbled, a brick crashing against the floor.

The fog rolled in, twice as strong, taking her away from him once again, sending him back into his corner where he waited for another chance to see her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Canada Day to any of my fellow Canadians :) And a happy early July 4th to all my American friends and readers! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!


	15. FLASHBACK: Sixth Year part 2

**March 1997**

Hermione sprinted down the corridor, her heart slamming against her chest.

"Ron's in the hospital. He was poisoned last night," Harry had told her, interrupting her study time in the library.

She didn't wait for him to say anything else or to see if he was following. It didn't matter that she and Ron had barely spoken more than a few words since she'd yelled at him in November. In fact, when she thought back to everything she had said to him since then, it had all revolved around his incessant need to snog Lavender in the middle of every corridor and classroom. Even the Common Room wasn't safe from their indiscretions. And when they weren't dry humping in the middle of a public space, they were professing their love to one another in the most obnoxious ways possible.

Hearing the words Won Won and Lav-Bear were like nails on a chalkboard now. She was incredibly thankful that Draco had never given her an awful pet name.

Lavender looked guilty every single time Hermione caught them. She would apologise and pull Ron away before he could put his foot in his mouth. Hermione was certain that they weren't trying to rub their relationship in her face, or at least not intentionally, but it was so hard to see them be happy and in love when her heart still ached for Draco.

Ron was bitter and upset that she wouldn't talk to him about what had happened, but she knew his temper and how quick he was to attack. Regardless of Draco's reasonings, she still didn't want to see another fight between the two wizards. It was bad enough that Harry was still convinced Draco was under some sort of curse and doing Voldemort's dirty work for him.

She focused on her school work, her duties as a Prefect, and trying to convince Harry to try harder to get the memory from Slughorn. Ron's irritation towards her only became more apparent when Harry brought up the Pensieve memory, as he felt that Hermione was being too hard on Harry. _Of course_ Harry knew what he was doing, but there were times when she wondered if he was taking things as seriously as he should be.

So instead of opening up to her two best friends about her personal life, she kept it to herself.

None of it seemed to matter though when she found out Ron had been poisoned. Why was she letting something like an ex-boyfriend get in the middle of her relationship with one of her first friends?

"Hermione, slow down," Harry yelled from behind her, his footfalls echoing loudly. "Ron's fine!"

"He was poisoned! How can you say that?"

Out of breath and sticky with sweat, Hermione reached the doors to the Hospital Wing. Harry was close behind, grabbing her elbow before she could charge through the doors.

Harry's eyes were wide with concern. "Take a deep breath before you go running in there. You know Madam Pomfrey will just make you leave again until you calm down."

Moving his hands up to her shoulders, he watched as she steadied her breathing. When she felt she was ready, she nodded her head and he released her, opening the door for her to go in ahead.

Ron was lying on one of the beds under a large window, his chest rising and falling evenly, looking as if he were just asleep. Lavender was sitting in a chair next to him, her hand holding his tightly. Fred, George, and Ginny were sitting around his bed.

Hermione moved towards the pair and slowly sank into the empty chair opposite Lavender. She took Ron's other hand, her eyes lifting to meet the other witch's.

"I didn't think you'd come," Lavender said quietly. "You've barely said two nice words to each other since the autumn."

"I came as soon as I heard. I can't believe he was poisoned." She looked to Harry, who was standing at the edge of the bed. "What happened?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, forcing the black locks to stick up in all directions. He eyed Lavender nervously. "Ron found some Cauldron Cakes I got for Christmas from Romilda Vane. They were, uh, laced with a strong love potion. He really wanted me to introduce them, so I told him I would but took him to Slughorn for an antidote instead."

"A love potion did this?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"Slughorn offered us some wine that he was supposed to give Dumbledore for Christmas but never did. Ron took a sip and immediately dropped to the floor in a seizure."

Lavender let out a choked sob, her head dropping to rest on Ron's arm. "Oh, Won Won!"

Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes while Fred and George imitated gagging. Ginny looked like she too was going to vomit and turned her head away from the crying witch.

"Why would Slughorn want to hurt Dumbledore?" asked Ginny after a moment.

"The poison could have been for Slughorn," Hermione offered. "Think about it; Slughorn had to have gotten the wine from somewhere. Maybe that person was targeting him."

The room went quiet while everyone let the information sink in. Hermione's mind raced, trying to think of the cause of all this. None of it was adding up. She thought through everything she knew of Slughorn, none of it seeming too outlandish, except perhaps his need to collect students.

"The necklace," she gasped. Everyone's eyes moved to hers, waiting for her to explain. "Didn't Leanne say that Katie was supposed to take the necklace to Dumbledore? And look what happened to her. Maybe the person that gave Slughorn the wine saw that Katie wasn't able to take the necklace in and tried a different method."

"I told you Malfoy was behind this," Harry said quickly. "Who else could afford wine that nice in the first place?"

Narrowing her eyes at Harry, Hermione pressed her lips together. "You keep thinking he's behind all of this, but just last year you were best friends," she said, her voice pinched.

"And you were dating last year! Things change, 'Mione. Who's to say that Malfoy isn't a Death Eater now?"

George and Fred let out low whistles. "A Malfoy dating a Muggleborn? Things sure have changed since we left Hogwarts," one of them said. Hermione wasn't sure which one and she didn't care enough to figure it out.

"Take it back," she spat at Harry. "Malfoy would _never_ become a Death Eater. I know he wouldn't."

"I'm not saying he _chose_ to become one, but I bet if you checked his left arm, you'd find a Mark."

She couldn't handle this. Harry, the person she'd confided in about everything, was openly slandering the person she loved. He was looking for a reason to defend Draco's actions. As if Draco being cursed would excuse the way he'd broken her heart so cruelly.

"Stop, please," Lavender interrupted. Her eyes were puffy and she looked distraught. "If you're going to fight, do it somewhere else. Ron doesn't need to wake up to his best friends going at it."

Shaking her head, Hermione stood, the chair legs scraping against the floor. "No problem, Lav. I need to go anyway. Please let me know when Ron wakes up."

Harry had been wrong about things before. He was convinced Snape was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone in first year, and he'd been wrong there. He believed Sirius was being attacked at the Ministry last year, and he'd been horribly wrong about that. He had to be wrong about Draco too.

She just needed to prove it.

* * *

**May 1997**

Harry had shown her the map before, pointing to where Draco disappeared into the Room of Requirement. He went into the room alone, saving her the heartbreak of watching him sneak off with another witch. She couldn't help but wonder if he was practising the defensive spells she had taught him or perhaps asking the room for a place to escape from it all.

With the return of Voldemort, she could only imagine what it must be like for him at home. His father was still in Azkaban. Did that mean he and his mother were safe? Could they enjoy time to themselves without the fear of being attacked? Or was Voldemort looking to Draco to take Lucius' place?

Draco hadn't spoken to her since they left school at the end of fifth year, though she hadn't exactly put herself out there to speak to him since that first night. She wasn't certain if her heart could handle being broken again. Harry's insistence that Draco was under some sort of curse was getting the best of her. She needed to find out, to save him before something horrible happened.

She spotted him on the map, heading towards the seventh floor alone. This was her chance to speak to him. He wouldn't have to lie to her if they were alone.

"Draco!" she yelled when she finally found him outside one of the bathrooms near the Room of Requirement. "Please, stop!"

He turned around and she stopped in her tracks. It had been a while since she had gotten a good look at him; she'd avoided watching him in classes as much as possible. His face was grey and his eyes were rimmed with dark shadows. Even in his robes, he looked as if he'd lost at least two stone.

"What do you want—" His voice cut off and it looked as if he weren't sure what he was going to say next.

Was he going to call her by her given name? Or perhaps Granger? Maybe he had reverted back to the days of Mudblood and caught himself before saying it?

Holding up her hands, palm facing forward, she took an uneasy step towards him. His tired eyes looked back and forth between hers as if she was a stranger.

"I just want to talk," she said nervously.

Draco's face remained passive, no signs of love or friendship flickering to the surface. "Well, get on with it," he snapped.

"I didn't hear from you all summer and then when we came back to school you just pretended I didn't exist. I heard you talking to the other Slytherins on the first day back in September; you said that I was nothing to you and I can't help but wonder what happened to change your mind."

He stepped forward again and again, closing the distance and forcing her back against a wall. He was significantly taller than her now, having grown sometime in the last year and now towering over her small frame. She could smell his body wash — the earthy warmth that once brought her comfort and made her feel at home.

"Those other Slytherins are my _friends_. _Slytherins_ stick together. _You_ are nothing to me, Granger. You were just something to pass the time." His warm breath fanned across her face, the smell of coffee assaulting her senses, and the feeling of comfort dissipating with every punctuated syllable. "It was a momentary lapse in judgement, but I know better now."

She watched with wide eyes as something flickered across his face. It looked to be something of pain, or strenuous force. He'd had a similar look on his face when he was playing Quidditch against Harry, trying to push his broom just that much farther to get the Snitch. The look vanished as quickly as it came, his emotionless mask clicking back into place.

Stepping back from her, Draco scanned her body from head to toe before sneering. "You're nothing to me."

It felt different, hearing him say it to her face. Deep down, she knew it would and that was why she hadn't approached him until now. This had been a mistake. She never should have followed him. She should have just accepted the fact that whatever they had before was gone.

Draco's eyes never left hers, emotion still flickering across his dark grey irises. He blinked a few times before turning on his heel and stalking away from her, leaving her alone and empty in a corridor once more.

She wanted to sink to the ground and let her emotions get the best of her, but she feared that he would find her crumpled and sobbing on the floor and would use that to make her feel even worse. So instead, she blinked back the burning tears and ran back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry was on his way back from the Great Hall when she crossed paths with him. "What's going on? What happened?"

Shaking her head violently, she bit her lip, fighting the emotions that threatened to spill. "He's gone. It's not him. Harry, you're right. Something is wrong."

"Where is he?" he demanded. "Still on the seventh floor?"

Unable to speak she just nodded her head. "He walked away from me, heading towards the Room of Requirement."

Anger flashed across Harry's features, something she hadn't seen in a while. This wasn't the boy who bought treats for his friends on the train or the one who encouraged his classmates to keep practising their spells when they were getting frustrated. No, this was the man who had fought Voldemort on countless occasions and walked away a little stronger, a little more determined, and a lot more pissed off.

"I'll take care of this," he said, his nostrils flaring with each inhale. "Don't tell Ron."

* * *

She was right there. He had seen her, her wild hair and strong eyes and perfect pink lips. It was as if she were close enough for him to touch.

And then she was looking at him as if he'd kicked her. Even through the fog, he could tell that she was on the verge of tears. He tried to reach for her, to brush them away and promise to hurt the bastard that made her cry, but his hand wouldn't move and his mouth was betraying him.

His feet carried him away from her and he pushed at the fog. When he was finally able to see clearly, she was gone. Running into the nearest room, he found himself in front of a frail man that looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept in a month. Draco blinked at the man, soon realising that it wasn't another person he was staring at, but his own reflection.

When was the last time he had gotten a full night's sleep?

Staring back at his reflection, he warred with himself over how much time had passed. It could be months, years even. He had lost so much time sitting in the dark corner, alone and missing her.

A noise pulled him away from the mirror, something high pitched and whiny. There was a second, deeper noise coming from the same spot in the room. It sounded like they were conversing with each other but he couldn't understand what they were saying.

The high pitched noise was closer, coming from next to his ear. "Don't… tell me what's wrong." There was a softness to the voice, something feminine, comforting.

Something grabbed his arm, jerking his weak body back and forth. It was too strong to be coming from the same source as the voice. Draco gripped on to something nearby for stability and the rocking stopped. He blinked, trying to focus on the figure in front of him. Dark hair. A man.

"What the fuck are you thinking?" the man said, though he couldn't match a face to the voice. "You have a job to do and I find you running around with Potter's Mudblood?"

Draco let the words sink in, floating through the fog and landing on the ground before him. His walls were holding strong as he studied them, trying to determine who was speaking to him.

He tried to strengthen his walls, to let him be a part of this conversation for longer than before, but the fog pushed against the edges.

"I can't… I can't… It won't work," Draco tried to say, forcing his mouth to move. Exhaustion moved through his body, working in tandem with the fog to knock him down.

"He wants you willingly. You have to stop resisting," said the male voice.

There was something about the tone that he recognized. Someone from class? Another Slytherin, maybe?

A male voice, different from before, came breaking through the fog. "Get away from him!" it yelled.

_Potter_.

Like the snap of a rubber band, Draco's body reacted without command. He was lifting his wand, aiming it at Potter, casting spells with the intention to harm. He wanted to hurt Harry — he could feel the desire run deep in his bones.

None of it made sense. Harry was his friend. Why would he want to hurt him?

"Stop it!" the feminine voice cried. "Please!"

With every flick of his wrist, Draco tried to pull back. He tried to prevent the spell from hitting his friend. Was Harry still his friend? Why was he dueling with the other wizard? And who was this other man? Why couldn't he place their voice?

Thick layers of fog crept in, starting low and building higher and higher, pushing back against his walls until his vision was nearly gone. The noises around him became distorted again, his grasp on what was in front of him slipping away.

Just as he was too exhausted to fight back, to let the fog take over once more, his hearing cleared and he regained spots of his vision. He was standing in a bathroom, Potter across from him with his wand raised, black hair plastered to his forehead. Moaning Myrtle was floating to the side, a terrified look on her face as she screamed for them to stop.

Theo Nott, that was the voice he couldn't place.

Theo was standing slightly in front of him, telling Potter that the Dark Lord was going to come for him, his wand aimed at the other wizard's chest.

No one else noticed the shift in Draco's behaviour. No one caught on to the fact that he was suddenly very lucid and aware of the fact that he was dueling against one of his best friends while an almost stranger stood to defend him.

None of it made sense. Was this an alternate reality? Had Voldemort won?

A flash of light burst from Harry's wand, hitting Draco square in the chest and throwing him back against a porcelain sink. His world went black as pain coursed through him. The only sense of reprieve he got was when the fog rolled in and took over, numbing him from everything.

The last thing he remembered was the word that left Harry's lips in a cry of desperation.

_Sectumsempra_.

* * *

**June 1997**

Harry had sat her down the evening of Draco's attack and told her everything. He told her about how Nott was there, telling Draco that he had to be willing to help, that he kept saying the word 'willingly' over and over. It just gave Harry more reason to believe that Draco was under some sort of curse.

"Hermione, he was barely himself. Surely you must have noticed something was wrong?" he had asked.

She wanted to agree with Harry, she really did. But the venom in Draco's voice was so similar to the way he had spoken to her in second year.

"I don't know. I — I want to believe you…"

He placed his hand on her arm gently. "I didn't mean to hurt him. Even if I had known what that spell did, I wasn't aiming for Malfoy. I was aiming at Nott. I could see the look in his eyes… he would have killed me, I know it."

It was a week before she was able to sleep again, constantly tossing and turning, wondering if she could sneak off to the Hospital Wing to see how Draco was recovering. He would be asleep and wouldn't be able to say awful things to her.

But that wouldn't be him. It wouldn't be the same and she knew it.

So instead, she laid awake for hours, wondering what this year would have been like had things been different. What would things look like if she had never become friends with Draco to begin with? Perhaps she would be pining over someone else.

Weeks had gone by since the incident and it felt like the world was moving on around her. Harry had obtained the memory from Slughorn and was off with Dumbledore on some secret mission. She, Ron, Lavender, and Ginny were gathered around the Marauder's Map, watching for Draco or Snape to appear. They had been given a small amount of Felix Felicis to share between the three of them, which only made the nervous lump in her belly grow.

Harry knew something was going to happen and they were preparing for the worst of it.

"He might be right, you know?" Ron said quietly, his eyes focused on the open parchment.

Moving her head slightly, Hermione watched him from the corner of her eyes. "Who's that?"

"Harry. I know you don't want to believe it, but I think Malfoy might have been cursed. I mean, once we became friends with him, he wasn't nearly as bad as he was in first and second year."

"What if he is cursed? What are we supposed to do about that?" she asked, her voice icy. She didn't want to get her hopes up. If Draco was cursed — if she had let him be cursed all this time —she would never be able to forgive herself.

Lavender stood up from the sofa. "I can't just sit around and wait for something to happen. You say Malfoy's in the Room of Requirement? Then let's go there," she stated, matter-of-factly.

Hermione eyed the witch sceptically. "You want to just go and ambush Malfoy? All of us?"

"No, look," she said, pointing to a spot on the map. "Snape is in his office. Someone should go there and keep an eye on him."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Lavender's right," Ginny said with a heavy sigh. "Get Luna on your way and the two of you can go keep watch there. We'll head up to the Room of Requirement and keep watch for Malfoy."

"I'm coming with you," piped up a voice from behind them.

Four heads turned to see Neville standing a few feet behind them, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. He reminded Hermione so much of the same boy she had petrified in that very spot five years earlier for trying to stop them from leaving. Time had aged him though, given him the confidence he'd lacked in their earlier years.

"Alright, that settles it. Four of us will go to the seventh floor, and two of you down to the dungeons. I'm sure Malfoy will have something up his sleeve that requires backup," said Ron.

Anxiety filled her suddenly. Hermione could sense that something was about to happen. There would be casualties tonight. She just wasn't sure how many or on whose side.

Pulling Ron into a tight hug, she whispered in his ear, "Please don't hurt him if you don't have to. If — if you can save him—" She couldn't finish her sentence.

"I won't, 'Mione. You have my word." He released her from the hug and folded up the map, shoving it into his pocket. "One drop everyone."

The small vial of Felix Felicis was passed around, leaving a small amount for Luna.

"Good luck everyone," Hermione said as she and her friends split up outside the Gryffindor Common Room.

She knew they wouldn't all be walking away unscathed. There wasn't enough luck in the world to ensure that.

* * *

"Right under your nose and you never realised it!"

The words tumbled from his lips. Why was it that whenever the fog receded it always did so when he was saying something unfamiliar? What had happened and under whose nose?

How much time had he lost this time?

A calm voice spoke, ringing clear through the clouds in Draco's mind. "Ingenious. Yet… forgive me… where are they now? You seem unsupported."

Anchoring his walls, he focused on the voice and the person in front of him, trying to control his words as they spilled out.

"They met some of your guard. They're having a fight down below. They won't be long…" He fought hard, resisting the urge to fall back into his mind. "I came on ahead. I — I've got a job to do."

_Fight, Draco. Build your walls like your mother taught you. Protect her, protect Hermione. You need to be lucid if you want to keep them safe._

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy." He recognised the voice as Dumbledore's. He sounded calm, if a little weak. There was something wrong with the situation.

What was the job he had to do?

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

He wanted to believe the older man. He wanted to agree that he wasn't a killer, that he never could do that. But with all of the blank spots in his mind, how could he be certain? It appeared that he was still at Hogwarts, perhaps still a student. The wind that blew through the open tower room was warmer, so it must have been spring, or early summer.

It had been a full school year, maybe two, that he had lost. So much time that he would never get back.

"How do you know?" he asked, hoping that Dumbledore would have the answer. Hoping for someone to look him in the eye and tell him that he hadn't lost every part of himself.

That he wasn't his father.

When the man didn't answer, Draco pushed forward. "You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what I've done!"

_Please, please tell me you know. Tell me I'm not a killer._

"Oh, yes...killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley—"

Draco stopped listening and the fog edged its way back into his mind. He tried to focus on what Dumbledore had said. He killed Ron? But they were friends, weren't they? Sure, they argued a lot, but it was all in good fun, right? Since becoming friends with him, Draco had never wished death upon the red-headed wizard.

And Katie Bell? He barely knew her beyond the Quidditch field. She was a year older and a great flyer. If they had been part of the same house, he could see himself being friends with her.

His mouth was moving again, telling Dumbledore something about how hard he had worked on it. Whatever _it_ was. And then there was a crash below.

The clouds returned in full force, sweeping him off his feet and carrying him to his dark corner. He tried to fight it, to hold on to the corners of his walls and pry his way forward. He didn't want to go back there again. He didn't want to lose more time, more of himself. He wanted to know what had happened that made him kill one of his friends.

Gripping on tight, he held focus somewhere in his mind where he could hear the conversations around him. His voice spoke words he didn't understand, spoke of conversations he didn't remember having.

Calling her 'Mudblood'.

It had been years since he had even associated that word with Granger, having long ago found it to leave a foul taste in his mouth. She was so much more than her blood status.

"Do it, Draco!" someone yelled at him.

Killing Ron and Katie? Calling her Mudblood? Was that why she had looked so terrified when he last saw her? Had she been there when he killed her friend?

"—I am a little shocked that Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school—"

None of it made sense. Whatever had happened in the last year, maybe two, couldn't have been so bad that it had turned him into a killer.

"I didn't, I didn't," Draco pleaded. He didn't do it. He didn't kill innocent people.

He felt the tip of his wand focus, aiming towards his headmaster. It was unsteady, the battle inside his mind causing his form to weaken. A spell pried at his lips, urging him to cast.

"—Draco, do it—"

"—Snape… doesn't seem—"

"—Severus—"

Words overlapped, none of them making any sense to him. Why was Snape there? What was he supposed to do? Why did his wand continue to aim at the man in front of him?

Where were the rest of the professors and the Order?

Was he a killer?

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

He thought he had said it. The words were there, on the tip of his tongue begging to be spoken.

It would have been easy.

Suddenly, the dark corners of his mind weren't so terrifying. There was comfort there. He was numb from it all, back where no one could find him.

There was no point in fighting the fog anymore when he had already lost so much already.

If he ever found his way out, he wasn't sure if he'd like the person he met on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, that ending! I promise that next week and the week after's are much lighter. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for your comments, and for just taking the time to read. I'm truly honoured :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present and out of the angst! Thank you to everyone who stuck around through the last couple of chapters and for all your comments. I love and treasure each of them!
> 
> To make it up to you, I give you a Dramione baby ;)

**January 2006**

It felt as if she'd been pregnant for twelve years. Hermione's hips were constantly aching, she couldn't get comfortable, and if Draco stole her pillows one more time, he'd be sleeping on the couch. Getting ready for bed was an ordeal, and yet her husband had the audacity to take a pillow and fall asleep within moments of closing his eyes. It took her hours.

"I need to get this _thing_ out of me before I go insane," she complained to Ginny one Saturday morning. "I don't know why you chose to have another after going through all of this."

"Harry is very convincing," Ginny replied, taking a sip of her tea.

Hermione lifted a brow sceptically. "You mean you hadn't been taking your potion and forgot to cast the Contraception Charm, don't you?"

There was a pause before Ginny spoke. "Yes, but if you ever tell this kid that he or she wasn't planned, I'll tell yours that you referred to him as a 'thing.'"

"Fine," she sighed. "I still can't believe you and Harry didn't want to find out the sex for this one. I figured you'd want to prepare yourself in case you have a girl."

"We talked about it, but ultimately I know that if everyone found out we were expecting a girl, there would be so many frilly pink things given to us. My mum would be uncontrollable, even though she already has two granddaughters. I really think it's a boy, though. I just have this feeling."

Reaching for her coffee cup, Hermione took a sip of the dark drink, still upset that Draco was only buying decaf beans. It just wasn't the same knowing that there would be no additional energy from drinking this. "Your mum has already sent over six blankets and four knitted jumpers in every Hogwarts house colour. She's been asking me about what the name is so she can make one with his first initial on it."

"Why don't you just tell her what it is? I know you and Draco are keeping the full name tight-lipped, but surely the first initial wouldn't hurt."

Hermione looked down at her swollen belly, uneasy. "We, uh, we haven't actually agreed on a name yet."

"What? You're due in three days! How have you not picked out a name yet?"

"I don't know! Time has sort of slipped away. We were both working full time up until yesterday, trying to get things ready there so we can take time off together as a family."

Clasping her hands over her own bump, Ginny said, "Just make sure you pick something strong. Something that will go well with whatever our child is named. They _are_ going to best friends after all."

Hermione laughed lightly. "Maybe we should just name them Draco Jr. and Harry Jr."

"Oh, McGonagall would have a fit if she saw those show up on the class list. I'm sure she'd come knocking on our doors the minute she found out."

"I really hope our kids are friends," Hermione said wistfully. "I can't imagine what it would be like if they didn't get along."

"What if they date?" Ginny smirked at Hermione, her eyes gleaming playfully.

"A Potter and a Malfoy dating? That would be like the 'Drarry' stories coming to life, and I'm just not sure I'm ready for that."

Ginny's mouth popped open slightly. "You've read some? How are they?" she asked in a hushed tone.

A deep blush settled onto Hermione's cheeks as she thought of some of the stories she had recently found on a website. "They're… I can see why people enjoy them."

She didn't dare admit that some of the stories had included sexual content that ignited her pregnancy hormones. And she certainly wouldn't admit to Draco that Drarry had fuelled her desire to be shagged senseless later that night.

"What are they like?"

"You know those centaur romance novels Lavender used to read?" Hermione paused, waiting for Ginny's confirmation. "It's like that. Only, instead of Fabio trying to seduce Stacy in the middle of a field, it's our husbands and Harry is trying to seduce Draco in the middle of the Great Hall."

Ginny snorted, her eyes rolling slightly. "Oh please, Draco would be the one seducing. Did you not see how long it took Harry to even notice I was a female? Meanwhile, your husband showed up with a dozen roses on a random Wednesday just because he liked the way you made coffee that morning. If anyone is doing the seducing in our husbands' relationship, it's Draco."

"Harry would be very well treated," Hermione said with a wink. "I would like to keep my husband, though. Especially since it's _his_ fault I'm pregnant."

"And you'll be reminding him of that through every late-night nappy change and tantrum. Oh, don't even get me started on what breastfeeding is like once his teeth come in."

"You're really painting motherhood with a lovely brush, Ginny. Thank you. I'm not at all nervous for it now."

"It's worth it, I promise." Finishing her tea, Ginny stood and stretched. "Let's go find the boys. _I'm_ ready for a nap, so I imagine James is going to need his soon, too."

They met their husbands in James' room. It was full of toys and books, including a miniature Quidditch set that was charmed to play real matches. It wasn't uncommon to find the three boys cheering for the small players.

After saying goodbye to the Potters, Hermione and Draco made their way to the sitting room to curl up on the sofa by the fire. Sitting on one end, she pushed her feet up onto his lap and tipped her head back to rest against the pillows.

"So, Ginny brought up a good point today," Hermione said, hoping that this conversation would go better than all the others they'd had before.

"Oh? What was that?" Draco asked, his thumb pressing into the tight muscles of her foot.

Her hand drifted to her belly, rubbing the spot where she knew her son was curled up. "We haven't agreed on a name yet and he's due any day now."

Draco's movements stilled. "I want to honour my family." His eyes lifted to meet hers, his irises hard with conviction.

"I know that, Draco, but you can't have _both_ of his names be for your family. I have a family, too, you know?"

"I'm not naming my kid after a Potter or a Weasley," he muttered.

Sighing, Hermione pulled her feet off his lap and sat up properly. "Not them; my parents. I want his middle name to be after my father."

Draco pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. "But it's supposed to be _my_ name. It's Malfoy tradition."

"Then no constellation name. You don't get two."

"But Granger," he whined. "Scorpius Draco Malfoy is such a strong name! No one will ever cross his path with a name like that! He was a strong warrior!"

Over the past few weeks, they'd begun to seriously look for a name, and Draco had made this suggestion several times. He had spent hours searching through various constellation books and came across the story of Scorpius, who was sent to chase after Orion when the Earth Goddess, Gaia, was displeased. There was something about the visual of Draco's child chasing after his horrid uncle that drew him to the name.

"My child will not be named Scorpion Dragon Malfoy," she said calmly, her lips pursed.

"No, no. Scorpi _us_ Dra _co_ Malfoy." He grinned as he added emphasis to the ending of each name. As if that would help.

"One name! You get one."

Holding her breath, she waited for him to decide. She could practically see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to figure out a way to get exactly what he wanted.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Draco spoke. "Scorpius. I want Scorpius."

* * *

In the early hours of January 13, Scorpius David Malfoy was born. He had a full head of blond hair like his father and wide brown eyes that matched his mother's. The healers at St. Mungo's were concerned when he didn't cry immediately, but after running a series of tests, they concluded that he was perfectly healthy, just quiet.

As soon as they were alone in the room, Draco climbed into bed with Hermione, letting her lean back and rest on his chest. Scorpius was cradled in her arms, his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath.

"We made that," Draco whispered, his voice full of awe and admiration at his son. He brushed his finger down the infant's cheek and watched as his tiny pink lips parted to let out a small sigh.

"We made _him_ ," she corrected. "I hate to admit it, but he really does look like a Scorpius."

Letting out a soft chuckle, Draco kissed his wife's head. "I told you it would be perfect. Look at how strong he is already. He's going to grow up to be a wonderful addition to Slytherin. Quidditch Captain and Head Boy."

"Or Gryffindor."

"Hmm?"

Hermione tipped her head up to look at him. "He could be a Gryffindor. His mother is a Gryffindor, why can't he be one?"

"Gryffindor would be very lucky to have our little Scorpion," he murmured, truly meaning it.

It didn't matter to him which house his son ended up in. He was born healthy, Hermione had been incredible, and they were a family now. As long as his son had a better childhood than he'd had, Draco didn't care whether Scorpius wore green or red or blue… he would even be alright with yellow, though that would be a harder pill to swallow.

Draco wondered, not for the first time, if his own father had felt this way when he was born. Did he too look at Draco with wonder in his eyes and hopefulness in his chest? When had his father's opinion shifted?

Pressing his lips to Hermione's, he tried to show his appreciation and love for her in any way he could. He would buy her all of the books she could ever want. There were so many things in life he would never take for granted, and having her in his life topped the list.

"I love you," he said between kisses. "I love you and Scorpius and our perfect family."

Hermione looked back to Scorpius and readjusted him in her arms so they could both rest for the night. With an arm tucked tightly around his wife, Draco watched as both she and his son dozed off, a sense of pride swelling in his chest, far greater than any he'd ever felt before.

* * *

**March 2006**

"How can you be certain you're having a boy?" Draco asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Rubbing her extended belly, Ginny looked from Hermione to Draco. "I just do. It feels the same as when I was pregnant with James. The heartburn is something awful; even potions aren't helping."

"I don't miss those days," Hermione groaned. She was holding Scorpius in her arms, rocking him gently in hopes he'd fall asleep. "I'll take all of the spoiled nappies and spit up in the middle of the night if it means I don't have to go through that again."

"So no baby number two?" Harry teased.

Draco sighed and took another sip before sliding it over to Hermione. She took a long drink before levelling her gaze to her friend.

"Harry, Scorpius is barely over two months old. The _thought_ of having another child right now is just—" She cut herself off with a shudder. "I think it'll be a long time before we have another child."

Wanting to change the subject before Hermione turned their conversation into a lecture about why not to ask a woman about when she was going to get pregnant, Draco turned back to Ginny. "What if you have a girl, though? Are you prepared for that?"

"Of course we are. It's not like I'm going to force my daughter, should we ever have one, into wearing dresses if she doesn't want to. If she wants to wear dungarees and play in the dirt with her brother, I will be more than happy to purchase some for her. She can be whoever she wants." She looked at him with challenge in her eyes, daring him to tell her about gender roles in pureblood homes.

Running his fingers through his fringe, Draco said calmly, "You know I don't follow all that pureblood shit anymore. Scorpius is the first half-blood to be born to the Malfoy house in centuries and I plan to raise him to be better than all of his ancestors."

"Good. Because if we have a girl, you know Scorpius will be chasing after her constantly," Ginny smirked.

"Absolutely not," snapped Harry, looking straight at Draco. "My daughter is not dating. Especially not a Malfoy. I saw how handsy you were with Hermione in eighth year."

Hermione rolled her eyes and slid her chair back from the table. "I'm going to put him to bed while you two debate marriage contracts."

"Want me to join you?" Draco asked, looking up at his wife with love in his eyes.

Even in a state of exhaustion, with her hair pulled back into a messy bun constantly and wearing the same ratty sweatshirt for days, Hermione was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. Of course he'd known this long before Scorpius was born, but seeing the way she was with him, the way she doted on him in ways he'd never experienced from his parents, had him falling in love all over again.

She leaned down, carefully bracing Scorpius to her chest, and kissed him softly. "I've got it. I'll be right back."

"Where is James tonight?" Draco asked, turning his attention back to the Potters.

"With Teddy and Andromeda. They offered to take him overnight so we could enjoy some alone time together before the baby comes. Plus, Teddy is completely smitten with James and vice versa. I'm thankful they won't be at Hogwarts together for more than a year or we'd be in trouble," said Ginny. She placed her hand over her belly again, rubbing a small circle over the top. "I'm happy they'll be in school together. Only a little more than one year apart, kind of like Ron and I."

Several moments went by and no one spoke. Neither Draco nor Harry could understand what Ginny was referring to, and Draco certainly didn't want to assume anything. He was fortunate that he had found close friends at school to replace the longing he had once felt for a sibling. It would have been nice for him to have someone to talk to about everything that was going on at home, though it would have also meant another person to protect...

"Speaking of Ron," Harry said, looking at Draco. "We popped up to Scotland last weekend and he's wondering when you're going to bring Scorp up to meet him. He loved the pictures we showed him but said, and I quote, 'I need to see him in person to make sure he doesn't have a ferret or cat tail'."

Scoffing, Draco finished the last of his drink. "My son is perfect, thank you very much. I'll write to Ron this week and see when he'll be at the Burrow for dinner next. I know Hermione is still hesitant to Apparate long distances with Scorpius and arranging to Floo is just so difficult."

"Speaking of Hermione, shouldn't she be back by now?" Ginny asked, her eyes flickering to the door. "How long does it take her to put a baby to bed?"

Checking the watch Hermione had given him for Christmas, Draco noticed that it had been nearly half an hour since she had excused herself. "She must be having trouble getting him to settle. I'll go check on her."

"We should be heading out as well. I want to enjoy as much of this toddler-free evening as I can," Ginny said. She turned to her husband with a cheeky smile. "Maybe do some activities to jump start this labour."

Red flooded Harry's neck and face, tinging the tips of his ears. "I—"

"I don't want to hear it," Draco stated, holding his hand up to cut the other wizard off before something even more embarrassing was said. "I may not see you as my brother the way Hermione does, but even I don't need to know about your sex life, Potter."

Ginny laughed loudly before scraping her chair against the floor. "Come on, husband. I have plans for you."

"Bye!" Draco said, hurrying to get out of there. "You've been here enough times that I'm sure you know your way out."

He left the dining room ahead of Ginny and Harry, deciding to take a chance that they would find some surface in his home to shag on. It probably wouldn't have been the first time either, but Draco didn't want to spend much time thinking about that. The less he thought of Harry naked, the better.

Casting a silencing spell on his feet, he made his way up the stairs and down the hall to Scorpius' bedroom. The door was open, the light from the hallway illuminating the room enough for him to see that the cot was empty and Hermione was nowhere in sight. He looked down the hall to their bedroom door, noticing that it was closed and a soft glow spilled from under the door.

He turned the knob slowly so as not to wake anyone. Sure enough, they were snuggled up in the large bed together, Hermione's body curled around Scorpius'. His small frame was swaddled tightly and he was tucked in the crook of her arm, his eyes closed and his pink lips parted. Draco snuck past his sleeping family and into the bathroom to complete his evening routine without waking them.

As he returned to the bedroom, the only light coming from a small lamp on his nightstand, he noticed Hermione's eyes flutter open. She blinked several times before curling her lips up to smile.

"Did I wake you?" he whispered.

She shook her head and looked back down at Scorpius. "I should take him to his room," she said, her voice thick with sleep.

Using his wand, Draco transfigured one of the armchairs into a Moses basket and moved it so that it was by the side of the bed, low enough for Hermione to reach into in the middle of the night. He bent down and pulled Scorpius into his arms, taking a moment to admire his son's sleeping face. Platinum curls were beginning to form, the tips of his hair flipping in every direction. After placing a tender kiss to his forehead, Draco set the baby down in the cot.

Hermione stripped her clothing off and reached for the sleep shirt she had tucked under her pillow. After changing quickly, she pulled back the covers and curled up next to where Scorpius lay, her fingers drifting over the side of the little bed to brush against his cheek. Draco slid under the covers next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder.

"How did we get so lucky?" Hermione asked, pushing herself back into him.

"I don't know, but I'd do it all over again."

* * *

A few days later, an owl from Harry arrived, letting them know Ginny had gone into labour. He had said it was okay for them to stay home until the baby arrived, especially since Scorpius wouldn't do well waiting for hours on end in a hospital. Knowing that Molly and Arthur would be at the hospital as well, Harry asked if James could come and stay with them. Hermione agreed, happy to have time with their godson.

It had been nearly a day of silence from the Potters before a second owl arrived, its beak tapping on the glass of the playroom. Draco opened the window and the small bird hopped in, sticking its leg out to show off the scroll attached there.

"Is that from _you-know-who_?" asked Hermione, looking up from the toys she was entertaining James with.

"I thought we agreed never to say that?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow at her. She gave him a sheepish look and waited for him to continue. "It's from Molly. James has a new sibling."

James looked up from the toys and clapped proudly. "Baby baby baby!"

"Want to go meet your new brother or sister?" Hermione asked.

"Baby baby baby!"

Laughing, Hermione began putting the toys back in the bin. "I think that's a yes. Let's get Scorpius ready and then we can all go to St. Mungo's together. How does that sound?"

"Baby baby baby!" he repeated again. Even though he wasn't having any problems speaking, James enjoyed repeating the same words over and over again, especially when the adults scolded him for it.

Hermione hoped Scorpius didn't pick up the habit.

After packing up his things and ensuring Scorpius' nappy bag was ready, Hermione and Draco made their way through the Floo to St. Mungo's. They followed the familiar path down the halls to the delivery ward, James pulling on Draco's hand the whole way.

"Do you think you're going to have a little brother or sister?" Draco asked him as they rounded the last corner.

"Baby!"

"There's my grandson!" said Molly, stepping out of one of the rooms. She bent down and reached for James as he bolted into her arms.

The four of them stepped into Ginny's room to find Arthur holding a small wrapped bundle. Harry was sitting on the bed next to his wife, stroking her hand.

"Mummy!" James yelled when he saw her on the bed. His little hands reached out and grabbed for her.

Molly set him down on the bed and he immediately scrambled up and into his mum's arms, not caring if she was sore or sensitive.

"Congratulations," Hermione said. "James was very excited to come meet his new baby."

Ginny held her son close to her, stroking her hand over his hair and he snuggled into her neck. "Thank you for watching him. I can't imagine what it would have been like to have tried to deal with him running around and also delivering a baby."

"It's why he has his own room," Draco said with a shrug. "Scorpius seemed to enjoy the extra attention. Or as much as a two-month-old can at any rate."

"So… were you right?" asked Hermione, excited. "Does James have a new little brother?"

"Actually," Harry said. "James has a new little _sister_. Lily Luna Potter."

Shifting Scorpius out of her arms and into Draco's, she extended her arms for Arthur to pass over the new baby. The small bundle of pink was placed in her arms, feeling so much smaller than Scorpius, even though he was only two months older. Tears pricked the corners of Hermione's eyes as she took in Lily's tiny nose and lips.

"I assume her middle name means that Luna is the godmother?" she asked, looking back up at the rest of the Potter family.

"Only in the most basic sense," said Harry. "If anything happens to us, she and James are going to live with you. We love Luna, but even she admitted that her lifestyle wasn't suited to being the primary caretaker for a child."

Draco snorted. "I'm sure your children would have top marks in Care of Magical Creatures, though."

" _They_ probably wouldn't get bitten by a Hippogriff," teased Ginny as she pulled James closer to her chest. "Do you want to meet your little sister, my sweet boy?"

"Sister! Baby!"

Harry helped Ginny arrange herself and James so that he could hold Lily on his lap. Setting the baby on James' lap, Hermione showed him how to support her head and small body.

"You're doing such a great job, James," said Harry. "You're going to be the best big brother, aren't you?"

Rather than speak, the toddler kept his eyes focused on his sister. He lifted his hand to brush against the dark red hair that covered Lily's head, being far more gentle than Hermione had ever seen him. Leaning in carefully, James kissed the top of her head and whispered something Hermione couldn't hear.

Turning away to give the family some privacy, Hermione looked up at Draco, catching him watching the Potters come together as a family of four.

"What're you thinking about?" she asked quietly.

His eyes flicked down to meet hers. "I'm thinking that their daughter is going to be in the same year as our son. There's going to be another generation of Malfoy and Potters in school together. I just hope their time is better than ours was."

"It will be, love. We'll make sure of it."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone for your lovely comments :) I'm doing my best to respond to each of them, but know that even if I missed responding, I read them all and I appreciate them so so much!
> 
> And another thank you to my beta, PotionChemist, for having me revise this chapter and make it a tad more explicit ;)

**July 2007**

"He's fine, Hermione. Scorpius is well over a year and a half; he's alright to be left with Molly and Arthur for one night."

Hermione tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, trying not to worry too much. She had never been away from Scorpius for longer than a workday, and certainly never overnight. They had a routine, and she was worried that Molly wouldn't do it right, even though Draco had reassured her countless times that one night without it wouldn't be the end of the world.

"It's one night tonight, and one night again in two weeks. Why couldn't we have just gone to see this during the day?"

"Because then Ginny and Harry wouldn't have been able to come with us and it would have been harder finding someone to watch Scorpius," Draco said, slipping his hand into Hermione's.

They were at the cinema, waiting in a long line that twisted around the lobby. With every new book or film, the fan base behind the _Harry Potter_ series grew, making it nearly impossible to go into Muggle London without seeing something related to the franchise. Once again, people had shown up at the cinema dressed in cloaks and carrying wands.

"I still can't get over how strange it is to see my face on a shirt," said Harry quietly, watching as a group of teenage girls walked by. "I mean, I know it doesn't look like me, but it's _supposed_ to be me."

Ginny, who had been wearing a jacket even though it was a warmer day, grinned at Harry. She reached for the zipper of her coat and slowly unzipped it. "I'm _so_ glad you didn't come to London with me last weekend. You would have stopped me from buying this, which would have been an injustice to us all."

Pulling off the outer layer, she exposed the red shirt she was wearing, adorned with the writing, "Drarry Forever" on the front. She turned around and giant letters spelt out "Potter" across her shoulder blades, with a large picture of Harry and Draco's faces underneath.

"I had it custom made," she added, grinning.

Harry groaned and shook his head at her. "I'm honestly surprised it took you this long. I half expected you to do something when we found out about the whole 'Drarry' thing a few years ago."

She shrugged, her eyes bright. "You were expecting it then. I have to keep you on your toes, Potter. Gotta stay sharp!"

Hermione looked up at Draco, noticing the smirk playing on his lips as he watched their interaction. Why neither of their husbands had commented on the extra layers was beyond her, but it did make for a lovely public reaction. She slipped her hand from his so she could remove her own sweater, revealing a matching shirt. Instead of red, her shirt was Slytherin green, and the back writing said "Malfoy".

"What do you think?" she asked, smiling sweetly and batting her lashes at him

He looked like he was going to say something before promptly closing his mouth. His brow furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out in a pout. "I normally like seeing my name across your back, but I really don't know how I feel about seeing my face that close to Potter's. It's a little unsettling."

Letting out a joyous laugh, she pushed up on her toes and kissed him softly. "Remember what we did the night you found out about Drarry?" she whispered. "We have the whole house to ourselves tonight and it's been so long since we've had alone time."

Draco's eyes widened and his hands moved to cup her arse, pulling her hips flush against him. She could feel his hardening cock through the Muggle trousers he wore.

"How long is this damned movie?" he growled.

"Only two hours."

He nipped at her lip. "Two hours too long. I can't wait to take you home and tear your—"

Someone around them coughed loudly, causing Hermione to jump back. Draco's hands flew to clasp in front of his groin, covering the half-mast that was quite obvious to anyone who looked. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, pulling her back to his chest and using her as a human shield.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear, his deep voice sending chills up her spine. "Just wait until we get home."

Two hours too long, indeed.

* * *

"I forgot how vile she was," Ginny said as they arrived back at Grimmauld Place after the movie. "She's almost worse than Voldemort."

"Not almost," Draco said. "She _is_ worse than him. Look at how many people she fooled at the Ministry. People seem to think that just because you don't kill others means that you're 'good'. I think my father is pretty good proof that you can be evil and still not a killer."

Sinking onto one of the sofas in the library, he pulled Hermione down beside him, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She gave him a soft smile and leaned into him.

"What's wrong?" he asked her quietly, not wanting to draw Ginny or Harry's attention.

"Nothing. Just thinking of Sirius' death and the fight between Harry and your dad. You were there but the film completely wrote you out."

"They didn't exactly write me out. They just made me the school bully," he said nonchalantly.

Hermione looked up at him, her brow furrowed. "Why aren't you bothered by this? I thought you hated what they did to you?"

He ran his hand through his hair, messing up the styled locks. "Well, for starters, we don't know how the series is going to end. The next book comes out in a couple of weeks, and maybe they'll get the ending right. But even if they don't"—he tipped her chin up with a single finger—"I have you and Scorpius and that's more than I could ever deserve."

"I guess you're right," Hermione said, her smile becoming more genuine. "You did luck out, didn't you?"

He brushed his nose against hers, pressing little pecks on her lips.

"I won the damn lottery."

"Yes, you did, " she said, deepening their kiss. "It's after the movie, you know. I believe we had plans."

Looking up, Draco saw the other couple had left the room, either to go get a drink from the kitchen or off to shag while they were also child-free. He stood up and pulled Hermione to her feet.

"We're leaving, bye! Nice to see you!" he called out the open door. He turned back to see Hermione had already stripped off her shirt and was standing in just her bra and jeans, her nipples tight under the thin fabric.

"Take me home, Draco Malfoy."

Rushing forward, he scooped her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, and Apparated them to their bedroom, bypassing the Floo entirely. It would take too long and he needed her immediately.

His mouth connected with hers, drawing the air from her lungs as their tongues touched. Moving his hand along her back, his fingers flicked the clasp of her bra, the thin fabric falling from her shoulders and exposing her tits.

Hermione's hips ground against his, delicious movements that stiffened his growing erection. Her hands pulled at his shirt, trying to tug it over his head to no avail. She let out a small whimper into his mouth.

"Draco," she pleaded. "I need you naked, right now."

He tossed her back onto the bed, watching as she propped herself up on her elbows, her panting causing her breasts to rise and fall so perfectly. Stepping back, he slowly popped each button of his shirt, exposing his sculpted abs inch by inch. Her pupils were blown wide, her gaze hungry and wanting. Draco was sure if he looked at the apex of her legs he'd see she'd soaked through her knickers and jeans.

"I hope you didn't think you'd be sleeping tonight," he said as he slid his shirt off and folded it over the chair by the end of the bed.

Hermione shook her head, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. "I have other plans for us, which we'll be able to get to if you'll hurry up and take off your pants."

Chuckling, Draco happily obliged, loving the look on her face when his cock finally sprang free. He wrapped his fingers around his hardened shaft, pumping once, twice.

It had felt like ages since he was truly able to worship her the way she deserved, and he had no intention of wasting a single second of their night together. He could stand there and tease her for hours, or he could be a good husband and give her the multiple orgasms she deserved.

Crawling over her, he let his cock rest against her exposed stomach, his tongue dipping into her mouth once more. Her hands moved to his back, sliding down his sides. He felt a small hand trail around his waist, wrapping her fingers around him and pumping firmly.

"Oh, love," he purred. "Tonight is about you."

She let out a breathy moan, her head tipping back onto the pillow. Placing open mouth kisses to her neck and chest, he made his way down her torso, taking a moment to run his tongue along each of her nipples. Her hands slipped from his body and gripped the blankets beneath them.

Draco's fingers moved quickly, divesting her of her jeans and tossing them on the floor where his own pair lay in a heap. His mouth moved to her cunt, flicking his tongue across the lace-covered mound. She bucked against him, crying for more.

He hooked two digits onto the waistband of her knickers, wiggling them off her hips and down her thighs.

Discarding the lace with their trousers, he kissed his way up her legs, sucking gently on the tender flesh of her thighs. She moaned, her fingers tugging on his hair. Sliding a single finger through her wet folds, he pressed his thumb to her swollen clit.

His name fell from her lips, a desperate plea. "I need you."

She wasn't going to last long like this, having been wound up for so long, and he wanted to taste her come in his mouth before he fucked her properly. Bringing a second finger to her core, he pushed them both inside her. Her cunt tightened around his fingers, a small spasm jolting through her.

Bringing his mouth to her heat, he increased the pressure on the small bundle of nerves and replaced his fingers with his tongue. She screamed out his name as her back arched. Knowing she was going to come, he thrust his tongue into her deeper, his nose brushing against her clit and making her cry out again.

The taste of her climax in his mouth was so much sweeter this time around; he'd been deprived of it for so long.

Hermione's fingers twisted into his hair and pulled him up to her, her lips finding his. She was never shy about kissing him after he went down on her, and he loved that she was the first to push her tongue into his mouth, tasting herself on their kiss.

Before he had time to realise what was happening, she had rolled them over, her legs straddling his hips. She shifted so she was sitting upright and rolled her cunt against him.

The head of his cock rubbed against her clit and Draco watched as a bead of precome glistened on the tip.

Reaching between them, Hermione took him in her hands, swiping her thumb across the tip and causing a shiver of pleasure to run up his spine. She expertly pumped the length of him slowly, her hand twisting at the head like she knew he liked it. Spasms shot through his body as he fought the urge not to come in her hands.

"I'm going to come if you keep doing that," he groaned, his eyes focused on hers.

A coy smile played on her lips as she slowed the movements of her hand, teasing him. Her free hand lifted to her breast, taking a pert nipple between her fingers and rolling it, her eyes fluttering closed. Watching her play with herself like this, to be so open and free, was as arousing for him as it was for her to touch him. He could watch her all night.

But tonight wasn't about that. They could do this almost any other evening. Tonight he wanted to hear her scream his name.

"Hermione," he growled, watching as her eyes snapped open at his tone. "If you don't stop touching me like that, I'm going to have to take control."

Her lips curled up into a devious smile. "I'd like to see you try, Malfoy." His name rolled off her tongue in the sexiest way possible.

Grabbing her by the hips, he rolled them over so she was lying on the bed. Taking hold of her knee, he flipped her onto her stomach and tugged back, pulling her arse up. Her cunt was wet with arousal, begging to be filled.

Lining up his cock, he slid the head in slowly before pulling out and starting again, pushing deeper and deeper each time. With every gentle movement, she let out a small whimper and her fingers dug into the pillow under her head. He finally thrust into her, sheathing himself fully. She let out a wordless cry and her hips pressed back against his.

"Fuck, Draco," she groaned. Looking over her shoulder, she watched as he pounded into her, her lips parted. "Gods, don't stop — ah — like that! Fuck! Yes!"

Folding himself over her, he brought one hand to her clit, rubbing rough circles over the swollen bud, while his other hand groped her tit. Her hips rotated against his and he could feel the ribbed muscles of her cunt clench around him, trying to stop her orgasm from coming.

"Don't hold back," he groaned. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

She let out a string of curses as he increased the speed and pressure on both her clit and nipple. His mouth pressed to her neck, leaving dark marks that he knew she'd make him heal later. Her cunt clenched around his dick, holding him in place as her orgasm washed over her in waves. Releasing her tit and adjusting himself so he was positioned upright again, Draco thrusted again, watching as her body writhed and shook. Her knuckles were white from gripping the bedding, and her forehead was shiny with beads of sweat. She looked fucking perfect.

His stomach muscles clenched and he could feel his balls tightening. He wasn't going to last much longer, especially with the way her hips continued to grind against his. With a final thrust, he emptied himself into her, groaning her name in broken syllables.

Placing a soft kiss to her lower back, he let himself slip out of her and roll to lie beside her. Her hair was plastered to her face, her cheeks flush, her eyes glassy. He dropped a small kiss to her nose and rested his forehead against hers.

"That was…" he started, trailing off when no words seemed to fit.

Hermione let out a breathless chuckle. "Yes, yes it was."

She curled herself up against him, chest to chest, with her leg hooked over his waist.

"Just a small break," she said. "Then I'm expecting round two, three, and four to follow."

* * *

"Thank you again, Molly. I know we've asked a lot of you and Arthur lately, but I really appreciate it!" Hermione said, her voice rushed. "Bill and Fleur have our numbers if you need to reach us."

"We've got it, Hermione. Scorpius is going to be fine," said Molly. She ushered Hermione towards the Floo. "I'll make sure he gets his warm drink before bed and is tucked in with his favourite blanket."

Nodding her head, Hermione turned towards the Floo. She took a pinch of powder but stopped short of tossing it into the flames. "And his dragon. He needs Fre—"

"Fredrick, his stuffed dragon, I know. Now go, or you'll be late."

She wanted to look back at her son, to make sure he was alright, but Molly was pushing on her shoulders. It was silly to be this worried about Scorp. He had done just fine when he stayed at the Burrow two weeks earlier, and he would be fine this time. Sure, transporting a sleeping baby after midnight might be a problem, but Hermione wasn't sure if she could go another night without him at home.

Tossing the powder into the fireplace, she called out Grimmauld Place and was swept away to where Draco was waiting with Harry and Ginny.

"Finally! I left five minutes ago," Ginny said. "What took you so long?"

"I hate missing bedtime," she said with a shrug.

Ginny slung her arm around Hermione's shoulders and led her towards the front door. "Alright, well let's go. I read in the news the other day that they're expecting massive crowds all over the city tonight because of this."

The four adults left Grimmauld Place and made the short walk to the nearest Underground station. It wasn't an ideal way of getting there, but they'd discovered it was faster than Flooing to the Leaky and walking. Draco was still unnerved by the whole concept of a train underground, but they'd used it a few times and he was slowly getting over his discomfort.

"Shite, you weren't kidding," Harry said as they entered the same shop they had visited in years past.

Hermione tucked herself into Draco's side, trying not to get trampled by all the people moving about the room. She looked over and saw Ginny looking around, gaping.

"I forgot you've never been to one of these," Hermione said. "You two should go get sorted."

Ginny looked to her husband and tugged him off in the direction of the Sorting Hat activity. Harry followed along but Hermione could tell he didn't want to be sorted again; the real event in first year was stressful enough for him.

One of the shop workers approached Hermione and Draco. "Excuse me, sir, would you mind grabbing that book off the shelf for me?" She pointed to the aforementioned book and smiled.

"Not a problem," he replied and reached up for the book. The woman thanked him before heading back in the direction she had come from.

"Wow!"

Hermione turned to look over her shoulder where another couple was standing, the man staring at Draco's arm. Both she and Draco looked down to his left arm, noticing the grey ink of the Dark Mark clearly visible to the public.

She thought she was going to throw up. How had they forgotten to glamour his arm? Draco never left the house without casting the charm, preferring not to draw attention to himself when he was in the magical world. It wasn't as bad in the Muggle world since many people didn't understand what the Mark meant, but it had become a habit for him to cover it anyway.

"That tattoo is amazing," the man said. He stepped away from his girlfriend and towards Draco. "Do you mind if I look at it? I'm a tattoo artist myself and I've never seen one shaded like this before."

"Uh…" Draco said, visibly uncomfortable. "I guess?" He held his left arm out for the man to see.

"Most places aren't able to use grey ink quite like this. If you hadn't moved your arm the way you did, I probably wouldn't have seen it. Where did you get it done?" The man looked to him for an answer.

When Draco hesitated for too long, Hermione jumped in. "In America. We went there last year and he got it done at a private studio in New York."

"They did a great job. You're a big fan, then? I mean, to get the Dark Mark tattooed on your arm like that. I've wanted to, but Anna here said I should wait and find out if I like the end of the series before I brand myself with memorabilia of it. Oh"—he stuck his hand out to Draco—"I'm Matt. Sorry, didn't mean to intrude on your space without introducing myself."

Draco's body seemed to relax as Matt continued talking. "David," he said, shaking the man's hand. "This is my wife, Jean."

Stepping forward, Hermione shook both Matt and Anna's hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

They talked casually with the other couple, learning that they had been fans of the _Harry Potter_ series since the first book had been released. Every year, they came to the bookshop to buy the book at midnight.

"Harry got Slytherin, surprise surprise," interrupted Ginny, coming to stand next to Hermione. "Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't mean to cut in."

"It's alright," said Matt. He introduced himself and Anna.

Hermione motioned between Harry and Ginny. "These are our friends, Harry and Jenny."

They had all arrived that evening with code names, having realised that it would be too busy for them to get away with using their real names and someone was bound to ask questions. The original plan has been for Harry and Ginny to be Jenny and James, but Ginny's slip-up tossed that plan out the window.

Anna let out a laugh before slamming her hand against her mouth, a deep blush filling her cheeks. "I don't mean to laugh, truly. It's just, your name is Harry and you're at a release party for the last book in a series called _Harry Potter_ and you just look _so much_ like Harry Potter."

Unable to remember if Harry had glamoured his scar, Hermione tensed when she saw him raise his hand and run it through his hair. His forehead was blemish-free. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief. It would have been too difficult to try and explain why he _also_ had a scar.

"Yeah," he said with an awkward chuckle. "You're not the first person to draw the connection between me and the fictional character."

Draco snorted indelicately. "Except that one guy a couple years back that said you weren't the best Harry Potter look-alike."

"I thought we were never going to talk about that again?" asked Harry, his eyes narrowed.

"It's too funny not to bring up. Besides, this is the last time we'll go to one of these, might as well take a walk down memory lane."

Rolling her eyes at their back and forth, Hermione muttered, "If you wait a bit longer you can revisit a whole year."

"What was that?" Ginny asked.

She shook her head and waved her off. "Just thinking we should go get in line if we don't want to be out too late."

They said goodbye to the Muggle couple and headed towards the line up that had begun to form by the registers.

"We're getting two copies, right?" asked Hermione as they found a spot to wait.

Draco hooked his fingers through hers and squeezed tightly. "Absolutely. I'm actually excited about this one and don't want to wait for you to finish."

She smiled at him, hopeful for what might be written about their happily ever after.

* * *

It was late when they returned to the Burrow to get Scorpius. Draco picked up the sleeping toddler and held him close to his chest, his soft snores never changing. By the time he was asleep in his cot, Hermione had already cracked open the newest book.

He'd had to wrestle the hardcover out of her hands so she would sleep and not be a total zombie the next day. They had only been home for two hours and she was already nearly halfway through it.

Scorpius woke them before the crack of dawn, his tiny voice yelling at them from down the hall. Draco rolled out of bed to collect his son, soothing his cries and wiping the fat tears from his cheeks.

"It's alright, sweet boy. Do you want to see Mumma?"

"Mum," Scorpius pouted. "Mum." At a year and a half, _Mum_ and its variants were his favourite words. Right up there with _no_.

They crawled back into bed with Hermione, the toddler wasting no time before climbing under the covers and pressing his nose against his mother's. A tiny hand reached up and rested on her cheek.

"Mum, Mum."

Hermione cracked open an eye and peered at Scorpius through thick lashes. Her face split into a grin and she wrapped her arms around the boy, pulling him against her chest.

"Good morning, my little love. How was your night?"

The blond boy started babbling away about his night, only half of it making any sense. She caught Draco's eye and grinned. He made motions asking if she wanted any coffee without interrupting the story and she nodded yes.

Grabbing the book from his nightstand, he made his way down to the kitchen. None of what the book had said was incorrect, not from what he had heard. It was true that Bill and Fluer's wedding had been broken up and that the Gryffindor trio had to hide out at Grimmauld Place. They had in fact snuck into the Ministry and retrieved the locket, escaping just as the potion was wearing off. Ron leaving, the attack at Godric's Hollow… all of it the same.

It wasn't making sense to Draco why that information was the same. Why did the author keep so much information true to what happened while changing other pieces so drastically? Considering the book was from Harry's perspective, he supposed it made sense that the text didn't mention Hermione's correspondence with Hogwarts, especially since Harry didn't learn about that until after the final battle.

The coffee finished brewing and Draco poured two cups, levitating them and some fruit for Scorpius in front of him. He flipped to the next page, devouring every word. There was so much happening and he craved every bit of it, looking for pieces that were different or that hinted that something had changed.

He was looking for glimpses of himself and all the time he lost while under the curse.

_'And I think,' said Bellatrix's voice, 'we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want to.'_

_'NOOOOOOOOOOOO!'_

_Ron had burst into the drawing room; Bellatrix looked round, shocked; she turned her wand to face Ron instead—_

_'_ Expelliarmus _!' he roared, pointing Wormtails' wand at Bellatrix, and hers flew into the air and was caught by Harry, who had sprinted in after Ron. Lucius, Narcissa, Draco and Greyback wheeled about; Harry yelled, '_ Stupefy!' _and Lucius Malfoy collapsed on to the hearth. Jets of light flew from Draco's, Narcissa's and Greyback's wands; Harry threw himself to the floor, rolling behind a sofa to avoid them._

The events leading up to Malfoy Manor were largely the same from what Draco had been told, though he knew that it ended much differently from what the book described. Reading that scene, he knew right away that the story would have a drastically different ending than that of real life, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

If he was honest, it was the narcissistic part of himself that had him reading the books in the beginning, but somewhere around the _Goblet of Fire_ , he had started to actually enjoy them. Sure, it was difficult to read his name and a description of himself doing horrible things, but as the books went on, especially the fifth one, he was able to step back and see them as purely fictional.

It was possible that he might even let Scorpius read them one day, so long as his son knew that they weren't real.

And in thinking of that, of this series being passed on to the next generation, Draco wondered how the Wizarding World hadn't caught wind of the series sooner. It had been almost a decade since the war and people were becoming more familiar with the Muggle world and all it had to offer.

How had this not made it into _The Daily Prophet_?

* * *

They spent the morning together as a family, having breakfast and playing out in the garden, and by noon Scorpius was ready for a nap. Hermione brought him up to their room and tucked him into the large bed between her and Draco. Each of them pulled out their copies of the books and continued to read while the tiny boy slept soundly between them.

_But she broke off as yells and shouts and the unmistakable noises of duelling filled the corridor. Harry looked around and his heart seemed to fail: Death Eaters had penetrated Hogwarts. Fred and Percy had just backed into view, both of them duelling masked and hooded men._

Hermione wiped at a tear that slipped down her cheek. She took a few long deep breaths before continuing to read. She knew what was coming and was preparing herself for the inevitable pain.

Looking up from his own book, Draco gave her a sad look. "The battle?"

She nodded her head, pressing her lips together to stop the bubble of emotion that was building up in her chest. Turning back to her book and flipping the page, she kept reading. The words were blurring with her tears, but it didn't matter. It would have been better to stop and skip ahead, to not read what happened and relive the pain as if it were only yesterday, but nevertheless, she continued.

She needed to know.

_And Hermione was struggling to her feet in the wreckage, and three red-headed men were grouped on the ground where the wall had blasted apart. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand as they staggered and stumbled over stone and wood._

Draco moved around the bed, crawling on to her otherside without disturbing their son, and crushed her into his chest.

"They—They… oh gods…" She tried to wipe at the tears that continued to flow but they were coming too quickly.

"Shh," he soothed, his hand rubbing circles on her hair. "It's alright, love. We knew this was coming."

She shook her head, gasping for breath. "No, no, no. Not like this."

Pulling back, Draco tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. "What happened?"

"She killed the wrong person."

* * *

The following Monday's _Daily Prophet_ had a large picture on the front page with a picture of the cover for the newest _Harry Potter_ book. It was the first time the paper had printed anything about the series and Hermione couldn't figure out why they decided now was the right time.

_WAR HERO'S TALE MAKES A BIG SPLASH FOR MUGGLES EVERYWHERE_

Hermione rolled her eyes at the headline. They made it sound like this was something new, as if the series hadn't been around for a decade at this point.

"Why now, do you think?" Draco asked that morning. He had just returned from bringing Scorpius to the Burrow; Molly babysat while he and Hermione worked.

"I'm not sure," she said. "I don't have any meetings until after lunch today. I think I'm going to go pay my dear friend Skeeter a visit and see if she knows anything about it."

Cocking an eyebrow at her, Draco slid the paper in front of him. "Why Skeeter? She's not even mentioned here."

"That's the point. Something this big, she would have squashed it by now, lest it get in the way of her telling the story herself. I'm honestly surprised she hasn't tracked down the author herself."

"And you're certain that she isn't the writer behind this?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I met her, remember? I would have noticed if she was using a glamour. And besides, Skeeter doesn't hide things. If she wrote this, she would proudly stick her name all over it and rub it in our faces."

"True… but that ending? I mean, come on. Me and Astoria? You and Weasley? Potter naming his kid after Dumbledore and Snape? It's like the author just forgot to do a simple search on our lives now." Draco rolled his eyes and folded the paper up, moving it back to her. "When you find Skeeter, give her a piece of my mind, will you?"

"Of course." Hermione stood and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sure it's nothing, but if anyone will be able to find information, it'll be her."

* * *

"Skeeter? You haven't heard?"

Hermione stood in front of the reception desk for _The Daily Prophet._ Their editor-in-chief, Barnabas Cuffe, had come out when she started to make a fuss over not being able to go back and see Skeeter herself. The new receptionist just kept telling her that she couldn't and Hermione wasn't having it.

"Heard _what_?" she snapped.

The man swallowed and looked around nervously. "She left. Gave her notice Friday morning and left. No warning, no two weeks. No explanation even. She just said she wasn't needed here anymore. About time, too."

"Why do you say that?"

"That story we broke this morning? She had been keeping it out of our pages for years. We've known about it since 2001 but she blackmailed me to keep it out of the paper. I'm certain she did it to all the other magical news sources as well since no one else ever printed it."

Hermione stopped breathing. She thought she might faint. Skeeter had known about the series this whole time? Ron had mentioned Skeeter years ago, telling Hermione that he thought she might be behind it, and she had ignored him. She had _met_ J.K. Rowling. She believed that they were different people.

"So she leaves and now you can print whatever you want?" she asked quietly.

Cuffe nodded his head and shrugged, his large shoulders moving quickly. "I can show you her letter if you really want. She said there that I could, and should, print anything I wanted about the _Harry Potter_ series. So… here we are."

"I have to go," Hermione said. "I can't believe she was under my nose the entire time. _Fuck_. Sorry."

"It's fine, Mrs. Malfoy. But I have to ask, why do you care so much about these books? It's obvious to any of us that these are mostly fiction. I mean, look at the ending. You and Weasley?"—Cuffe snorted—"Like that would have ever happened, even if—"

"Yes, I know," she said, cutting him off. "It's the principle of the thing. She, or someone, has printed our story without our permission. They need to explain themselves."

The large man didn't say anything for a moment. He looked as if he were deep in thought. "I know my opinion probably won't mean much, but I think the books have done a great job at capturing the struggles of the war. There was so much focus on what the adults, the ones who should have stepped forward, did wrong, and how the whole war fell onto the shoulders of three children. It may not have been one hundred percent correct, but the thoughts and emotions are all real."

Hermione let his words sink in. She had spent so much time over the years toying between being upset that these books were so correct and being upset that they were wrong, that she hadn't stopped to look at what they could mean to people.

Neither she, nor Harry or Ron or Draco, had any interest in telling their stories. They had all made it very clear after the war that all they just wanted to put it behind them and focus on healing. Having a series of books printed about their tales wasn't just an invasion of their privacy, but it did so in a way that was wholly inaccurate. Draco had been through so much, and painting him as a villain crossed a line for Hermione that she hadn't been aware was there.

"If whoever this author is wants to write my story, then so be it. But she brought my husband and child into it, and I won't stand for that. I need Skeeter's contact information."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* where is Rita? Unfortunately, you'll have to wait a few weeks as we're diving back to seventh year next week!
> 
> Curious to know your thoughts on this chapter :D


	18. FLASHBACK: Seventh Year part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally made it to seventh year! Don't worry, all your questions from the last chapter will be answered... just maybe not today ;) 
> 
> A quick note that there is some mention of blood in this chapter for anyone who is squeamish.

**August 1997**

_Ginny,_

_I'm sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. I don't know the nature of our departure, but I know that we'll have done it without alerting anyone. Your mum would have tried to stop us, and we have to go. Harry seems to believe that the fate of the wizarding world rests on his shoulders, and Ron and I can't let him go on this hunt alone._

_Tucked in the bottom of your trunk are a couple of necklaces, one for you and one for Lav. The pendants have the same charm as the Galleons we used for the DA, but the message will only go between the three of us. It won't be safe to send letters or Patronuses, but I worry that we'll need to still pass messages back and forth._

_Stay safe this year. I'm scared that the safety of Hogwarts will be diminished, and you might be in as much danger there as we are here — wherever 'here' is. I'll keep Harry and Ron out of trouble. They mean well, but their courage and bravery often toe the line of stupidity, and I worry if someone isn't there to stop them, they'll get hurt._

_If you can, keep an eye on a certain blond prat. After what happened in June, I'm more and more convinced that something isn't right. That's not him, Gin, but I don't know what to do to prove it…_

_I love you._

_Hermione_

* * *

**September 1997**

_Snape is in charge. Death Eaters are teaching. We are still safe. -LB_

_Ferret looks worse than last year. Like a ghost. -GW_

Hermione sighed and tucked the necklace back into her sweater. They had been gone for over a month and had only found one Horcrux. There was still no way to safely destroy it. She wasn't expecting to have destroyed them all in a month, but she was hoping that they would at least have a plan to get rid of them.

What happened if they found them all but couldn't do anything more?

Ginny and Lavender's daily messages were keeping her sane. They had been back to school for a week and already they were worried about what the next ten months might hold. With Death Eaters in charge, there was no saying what might happen.

During their escape from the Ministry, Ron had been splinched and was in the tent recovering. It hadn't taken them long to realise that wearing the locket was affecting them mentally and so they took turns.

"Harry," she whispered, approaching where he sat outside the tent. "It's my turn. You need to get some rest."

"How is he?"

She shrugged. Ron's injuries were healing but unless they used their entire supply of Dittany, they would need to let his wound heal naturally.

"He'll get better. Now, go sleep."

Slipping the necklace off, Harry handed it to her, his mouth turned downward. "I don't like you wearing it," he said.

"And I don't like that you have an evil wizard in your mind. In order to get rid of _that_ "—she motioned towards his scar—"I need to wear this."

Sighing, he left her alone outside the tent. Hermione wasn't sure how the next few weeks or months would go while they were all stuck together, living off the land and what they had been able to pack quickly.

She pulled out her medallion and tapped her wand against it, watching as the words appeared and glowed before sinking into the metal.

_Got one. RW is hurt but recovering. Unsure of next steps. -HG_

_Are you alright? -GW_

Leave it to Ginny to bypass her brother's health and ask about Hermione's. She charmed the next message to go only to Ginny.

_I'm fine. Thanks for checking on Ferret. Worse how? -HG_

It was a few moments before the next message appeared and Hermione was beginning to worry. She had tried hard to let go of Draco, but the idea that he was cursed or under the influence of someone else kept nagging at her. Even if he really didn't want to be with her anymore, she still wanted to know that he was going to be alright.

_His eyes are glassy and he looks sickly. HP is right. Must be a curse. -GW_

Hermione didn't write back, unable to find the words to express her feelings. They needed to destroy the Horcruxes so she could get back to Draco and figure out what was wrong with him.

_Anything we can do at the castle to help? -GW_

_Need the Sword of Gryffindor. -HG_

_I'll get it. Hang tight. -GW_

* * *

**October 1997**

_They're teaching us Unforgivables. RoR is a safe space. -LB_

_No change in Ferret. Haven't been able to see him lately though. -GW_

Hermione looked up at Harry, who was in the midst of a fight with Ron. She knew Ron had been wearing the necklace for too long but he never wanted to take it off. He was trying to protect them, saying it was his way to contribute, but it had all led up to the moment when Ron snapped.

"Oh, you're sure, are you? Right then, well, I won't bother myself about them. It's all right for you two, isn't it, with your parents safely out of the way—"

"My parents are _dead!_ "

Hermione held back the sob that was building up in her chest. For Ron to think that she and Harry were fine living like this, that they weren't concerned about their families — blood or not — was insulting. This was why she hadn't told him she was able to communicate with Lavender and Ginny. He would have spent hours bent over the medallion waiting to hear from them, just as he did with the radio.

Erasing her parents' memories had been the hardest decision she'd ever had to make, and Ron threw it back at her as if it were nothing. They weren't dead, but she wasn't sure that they were safe either, and it was keeping her awake at night. As soon as she'd arrived home after sixth year, she'd sent them off to Austria. Within a week, their house had been sold and all their possessions had been put into storage.

"What are you doing?" he snapped, pulling her attention back to the tent.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you staying, or what?"

She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. "I… Yes… yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd—"

"I get it. You're always picking someone else over me. If it's not him"—Ron gestured to Harry—"it's Malfoy. It's never been me. No one ever puts me first and I'm fucking done!"

His face was nearly the colour of his hair and his blue eyes were hardened with rage. He stormed out of the tent, and before Hermione could pull herself together enough to respond, the quiet _pop_ of Apparition echoed into the tent.

"He's gone, he's—" The emotion building in her chest burst, and like a dam finally breaking, she let out every ounce of anger and sadness and heartache she had been holding in for the past few months.

Harry pulled her down onto one of the cots and wrapped his arms around her. His hand rubbed calming circles on her back until she was able to control her tears and settle them into quiet sniffles.

She lay there silently, listening for the change in Harry's breathing that signaled he was asleep. Carefully untangling herself from his hold, she slipped out of the tent and sat against one of the large trees, her head tipped back and looking up at the night sky.

It was easy to find, the glittering stars in the sky where the dragon stared back at her. Being mid-autumn, the constellation wasn't as clear as it was in the summer, but the effects of it were all the same. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his arm around her, his scent wafting in the air, his voice a low hum telling her it was alright.

Everything was going to be alright.

* * *

_RW is gone. Keep an eye out. Don't freak out LB. -HG_

_HE WHAT?! -LB_

_He took off. Not sure where. We need to move. -HG_

It took everything in her not to leave something for Ron, to give him a clue as to where they were going, but it would be too dangerous. They had no way of knowing if they were two steps in front or behind the Death Eaters and giving them any hint could be deadly.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, kicking a rock in front of him.

She nodded her head, a knot forming in her stomach. "Yes. We have to keep going."

They packed up their things, and holding tight to one another, Hermione whisked them away to another hillside.

Far away from Ron and Hogwarts and Draco.

* * *

**November 1997**

Weeks had gone by without so much as a word from Ron. Ginny hadn't mentioned anything to Hermione about him showing up at the school or the Burrow and she was beginning to worry. Had one of the Snatchers caught him? Was he being tortured in order to get information about her and Harry's whereabouts?

Information passed between Hermione, Lavender, and Ginny had become scarce. They still checked in almost daily, ensuring the other group was still alive, but without any changes or movements on either side, there wasn't much to report.

Her medallion burned hot against her skin and she pulled the metal out to read the message.

_More students being tortured. RoR has half the school. -GW_

_Snakes? -HG_

_None. No way to tell if good or bad. -GW_

_And Ferret? -HG_

_No change. I'm sorry. -GW_

They needed to destroy this Horcrux and find the others, fast. With every passing day, it felt like their chances at winning were slipping away, too. Their food supply was gone and Harry's irritability from wearing the locket was wearing on her nerves, though she was certain if asked, he would say the same.

She turned and looked at her companion, his eyes glassy and red rimmed. "My turn with it. You need rest."

"No, I—" He looked up at her and sighed. "I just want one night without worrying about You-Know-Who coming into my dreams. I'm terrified, Hermione."

Coming to sit down next to him, she tugged the locket from his neck and placed it on the table between them. Harry shifted and rested his head on her shoulder, his body sagging without the added stress of the Horcrux.

"I'll keep watch while you sleep. Of you and the tent," she said. Her hand lifted and she combed her fingers through the hair sticking up at the back of his head. "You've protected me. Now it's my turn."

He nodded his head before moving to the cot closest to her. "I don't know what I would have done without you." His eyes fluttered a few times before finally closing, and his breathing slowed to a steady pace.

Hermione sat by him for a few hours, the locket tucked safely around her neck and her wand trained at the door of the tent.

She hadn't been able to protect Malfoy, and Ron was off somewhere unknown. She would protect Harry with every ounce of her magic, if it was the last thing she did.

* * *

**December 1997**

_RW came back. One destroyed. Happy Christmas. -HG_

_Luna is missing. Don't tell HP. He'll get distracted. -GW_

_Tell Won-Won I miss him. -LB_

_Fuck LB! INITIALS ONLY! -GW_

Hermione smiled as she tucked her medallion back into her shirt. Ginny was right, telling Harry and Ron that Luna was missing would only derail their hunt further and they didn't need that. Much as she wanted to tell the boys about her communication with their significant others, she knew it was best to keep this information close to her chest.

Christmas with Harry hadn't gone as planned and they were initially down a wand, unable to properly protect themselves if the time came. But, while Ron had spent the past two months at Shell Cottage, he was able to pick up information about the war and what was going on, and return with a wand for Harry to use.

As long as they didn't say Voldemort's name, they might stand a chance at making it to the end of this.

* * *

**January 1998**

They had nearly been caught because of Xenophilius Lovegood's actions and it made Hermione question whether or not she made the right choice by keeping Luna's disappearance a secret in the first place.

Of course, going there and exposing themselves to a worried and anxious father had been a dumb idea. Harry learning about the Deathly Hallows and being convinced that it was his mission to find them was a whole other level of stupidity, though.

If he ever questioned why she stayed by his side through it all, she would merely mention this to him. Dumbledore told Harry about the Horcruxes. He wanted them to find the Horcruxes. Staying focused, staying vigilant, was what was most important.

_Luna isn't at home. -HG_

_How do you know? -GW_

_Visited her father. HP wants to change mission. -HG_

_You can't let him. Things are bad here. -GW_

_Caught a glimpse of Ferret on the train. Looks worse. Hurry up. -GW_

Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Her fear for her classmate's safety was rivalled by the fact that she was almost certain her ex-boyfriend was the one causing the problems.

"'Mione, you alright?" asked Ron, finding her sitting outside the tent.

She nodded her head, discreetly slipping the necklace back under her jumper. "Of course, just worried is all."

"Me too. Harry's daft trying to go after the Deathly Hallows, right? They're not real, you know that?"

"Yes, Ron. It's just a fairy tale. He needs to stay focused. That's why we're here."

He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry I left. I should have never done that. Or said that you and Harry didn't care. I know—" He stopped and swallowed deeply. "I know that you've both lost so much already, and I don't even know what it's like to lose someone."

"And you won't, so long as Harry and I can help it. Your family is as much ours as it is yours. Nothing is going to happen to them."

* * *

**March 1998**

_Going home for Easter. Stay safe. -GW_

_You too. Where's LB? -HG_

_Staying at Hogwarts. How is camping? -GW_

_Fine. Quiet. Too quiet. -HG_

It wasn't a lie, either. January and February had been surprisingly calm for the trio and it had Hermione on edge. They were no closer to finding what they needed, but there had been no attacks on their camp either.

The sky had been dark grey, like a storm was approaching, like the events of their so-called camping trip were about to turn.

* * *

Ron had finally gotten the damn radio to work, bringing up a programme called _Potterwatch_. The familiar voices of Lee Jordan, Kingsley, Fred, and George sent a feeling of warmth through Hermione's chest and, for the first time in months, it felt like they might actually have a chance. The Order was still there, still fighting, still keeping the spirit alive.

She was preparing to step out of the tent to message Ginny and Lavender and let them know about the programme. Ginny left for the Easter Hols a few days prior and she wasn't sure if the Weasleys knew their sons were alright. It would probably brighten up the family's time together if they knew their sons were alive and fighting.

"But did you hear what Fred said?" asked Harry, stopping her in her tracks. "He's abroad! He's still looking for the wand, I knew it!"

"Harry—" she started, hoping to reason with him. He needed to let this go. This wasn't some Muggle video game with a side-quest for him to play; this was life or death and he needed to focus.

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—"

Both she and Ron jumped to their feet, trying to stop him. "HARRY, NO!"

"—demort's after the Elder Wand?"

The loud sound of Apparition cracking came from outside the tent. All three of them stopped, looking at each other, their eyes wide.

"The Taboo," Ron whispered. He clicked the Deluminator in his hand, extinguishing all lights from their small space.

It took everything in Hermione not to grab her boys and Apparate, but she wasn't sure where to go or what they would do once they got there. So instead, she aimed her wand at Harry's face, casting a silent Stinging Jinx and hoping it would be enough to save them.

* * *

Years ago, before the world went to shit, Hermione had imagined what her first visit to Malfoy Manor would be like. It would just be her, Draco, and Narcissa, of course; Lucius would never have allowed her to step foot on his property so long as he had a say in the matter.

They would sit outside and have tea, looking over the rolling grounds that Draco had spoken so highly of, before venturing inside where their afternoon would be spent reading in the library. Draco would flirt with her shamelessly, sneaking kisses in when his mother wasn't looking. Their freed house-elves would serve them the most delectable meal and thank Hermione for all her hard work, ensuring they had rights.

Narcissa would tell her how happy she was that her son had found someone so well-suited to him. She would be welcomed into the family. Secret smiles would be exchanged between mother and son, hints thrown around about Hermione officially becoming part of the family one day.

But that wasn't what happened.

Hermione's first time seeing Malfoy Manor was from outside the iron gates, the large mansion looming in the distance. It didn't look like the white palace Draco had once described; instead, it was something dark and gloomy. She was certain if she pinched herself enough times, she would wake up from this nightmare.

Narcissa Malfoy met them in the foyer of her home. She looked nothing like what Hermione remembered from when she'd seen her at the Quidditch World Cup. She looked like a ghost of the woman; still appearing like ever the pureblood wife should, but there was emptiness in her eyes. Eyes that met Hermione's almost instantly.

There was a brief moment when hope bubbled up in her chest and she thought Narcissa would help them. That she would send the Snatchers on their way and release them all. That Narcissa was on their side as well.

"Follow me," she said. Her voice was clear and proper, not an ounce of emotion under its surface. "My son, Draco, is home—"

The rest of her sentence cut out. Draco. Draco was there, in the same building as her, and she would see him.

With her heart hammering in her chest, Hermione followed, moving through the halls and into a large drawing room. It was decorated in purples and dark woods with a glittering chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting rainbows across all surfaces. The room looked like the kind of place a party might be held, one with formal dress robes and music filling every bit of space. She could picture herself dancing with Draco in the middle of it all…

And then he was there. Her Draco. Standing in front of them in his tailored black dress robes, his white-blond hair glowing, and it was like all the air had been sucked from the room. Hermione's chest ached. She wanted to fight the bindings that kept her in place, to run to him and hold him and tell him it was going to be alright.

But this wasn't her Draco. This was the boy who, not even a year ago, took part in the murder of their headmaster. He was cruel and uncaring, and in that moment he looked past her as if she didn't exist.

"I don't know," he kept saying whenever someone asked him if it was really Harry Potter.

Part of Hermione wondered if he was telling the truth, or if he was trying to protect them. Perhaps whatever spell he was under — and Hermione was trying so hard to believe he had been cursed — he was fighting it.

Bellatrix Lestrange entered the room, commanding all attention.

"Well, if it isn't the Mudblood girl. This is Granger?" Her voice sent chills down Hermione's spine as a long crooked wand was placed under her chin, forcing her to meet Bellatrix's eyes.

"It is! It is her," cried Lucius. He moved into Hermione's eyeline and she grimaced at the sight. His hair was lifeless and dull, hanging in a stringy mess from his head. There were deep scars on his face from where Draco had struck him with boils two years prior, marring his face permanently.

As Lucius and Bellatrix argued loudly over who should be the one to call the Dark Lord, Hermione's gaze wandered back to the lost boy on the edge of the fray. Draco's eyes were dull with dark shadows under them. Even when he looked straight at her, it was like there was no recognition there. She wasn't even certain that he would recognise his own mother with how glassy they were.

It was as if he wasn't controlling his own mind.

"Imperius," Hermione whispered, the pieces finally clicking into place.

An Unforgivable curse, of course, how could she have missed this? Draco, the Draco she fell in love with, would never have turned his back on her to follow in his father's footsteps. He hated Lucius with everything he had. The only thing that could possibly sway his opinions of her, of light and dark, was someone controlling them for him.

There was movement around her and it felt like the bindings that kept her attached to the others were loosening.

"All except… except for the Mudblood."

The blood drained from Hermione's face as she watched her friends dragged from the room, away from her. She was left alone with Bellatrix and the three Malfoys, the Snatchers having been sent away while she was focused on Draco. Bellatrix's mouth curled up into a sneer, hints of her rotting teeth visible between her parted lips.

" _Crucio_."

Every fibre and nerve in Hermione's body broke out into flames. She was burning. Burning from the inside out and she couldn't stop it. Her vision was gone, replaced with the flickering reds, oranges, and black. Time stopped and the whole world was made up of pain. Scorching heat flooded her veins, pulling her down further away from any hope she may have had before.

The fire extinguished and suddenly she was able to see again. Her throat was raw from screaming, her cheeks soaked with tears. Aftershocks rippled through her body as she tried to focus on the room around her. Bellatrix was crouched over her, taking up most of her view, but right behind her was a glimmer of hope.

Narcissa.

She looked at Hermione, their eyes locked tight. It was as if Narcissa was trying to communicate with her.

_Be brave, little lion._ _My dragon is in there. I promise. I'm on your side._

The voice echoed in Hermione's mind and she nearly sobbed. It was calming, loving, protecting. She tried to respond to the woman but without knowing Legilimency, she had no way to do so. So instead, she held back her tears and tried to stay strong for the woman who had already been through so much.

Bellatrix was yelling in her face again, pulling her attention away from Narcissa and the safety net that was there. Between the stale breath fanning over her face, the Cruciatus Curse, and Narcissa's allegiance, Hermione's stomach was roiling.

"How did you get into my vault? Was it the little goblin?"

"We only met him tonight," she sobbed. "It's a copy!"

Bellatrix was off Hermione in a flash, yelling demands at someone else to bring the goblin. It gave her the chance to catch Narcissa's eye. The older woman's mouth was pressed into a thin line, but she nodded her head — a brief movement, but it was enough for Hermione to know who was on her side.

With Griphook distracting Bellatrix, Hermione tried to move, to crawl to Narcissa. To do something.

"Just where do you think you're going, Mudblood?" said Lucius, his foot coming down on her shoulder and holding her in place. "Bella!"

There was no time to react before she was hit with another _Crucio_ , this one lasting longer than the last.

"Stupid bitch," spat Bellatrix when the flames subsided. "It seems you're tiring of our little game. Are you ready to end it? Shall I command Draco here to kill you? The last thing you'll ever see is your classmate as he slits—"

A loud banging from outside the drawing room cut her off. Ron and Harry burst into the room, shooting off spells in every direction. Lucius was hit in the chest, the stunner causing him to release the pressure he was still putting on Hermione's arm. He toppled to the ground and she rolled out of his way, trying to get to Narcissa.

She heard Harry shout out an ' _Expelliarmus_ ', though she wasn't sure whose wand he had won. A strong hand reached forward and tugged her to her feet as a cold blade pressed against her neck. Bellatrix was behind her, laughing erratically.

"Stop or she dies!" the crazed woman yelled. "Drop your wands or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"

Hermione shot them a terrified look and tried to nod her head slightly, moving only enough for them to notice but not have the blade cut her. They set their wands on the ground and stepped back.

"Draco," Bellatrix commanded, her voice sharp. "Get the wands."

He stepped forward and collected the wands before returning to his spot against the wall opposite his mother. He wasn't reacting to any of this. Completely numb to it all.

"Now, Cissy, what do you say we tie these little heroes up?"

A sharp grinding noise came from above, like metal scraping against metal. All heads in the room turned to face the noise just as the chandelier shook. Hermione had a second's notice to break free of Bellatrix's hold and run towards Ron and Harry. Pieces of glass and crystal came thundering to the ground and splitting into a million tiny pieces. She turned back to watch as the large decor crushed Bellatrix beneath its weight. The knife that had been held to Hermione's neck skittered across the floor, out of sight.

The room was silent for a moment as they stared in horror at the sight. A pool of blood spilled from Bellatrix' crumpled form, and small pieces of glass could be seen stuck in her at odd angles.

Narcissa whispered, "Is she really dead?"

No one dared to move. Hermione was frozen to the ground, terrified of getting too close and discovering it was a trap.

A scared and broken voice broke the silence, pulling Hermione's attention to the source.

"Mum? What happened?"

* * *

Draco blinked rapidly as the fog around him disappeared and all of his senses returned.

It was disorienting. He was unsure of how long it would last this time, but he'd never had this much control before. There was nothing there to cloud his judgement. He could see that he was in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, though it looked darker than before. There was the coppery tang of blood in the air, and a feeling of absolute stillness.

He saw his mother, standing across from him, her eyes focused on something to his right. She looked weak, exhausted, broken. But it was his mother, clear as day.

"Mum? What happened?" he choked out.

Her head snapped to look at him and smiled softly. "My Dragon," she whispered. "I've missed you."

Draco felt his knees grow weak at the sight of her. He wanted nothing more than to run into her arms, but a small whimper from further down the room pulled his attention away.

_Hermione._

She was there with Harry and Ron — Draco paused momentarily to stare at the redhead who he had apparently killed before focusing back on the love of his life — clinging to them as if her life depended on it. Judging by her appearance, that might have been the case. Her eyes were rimmed red and there was a layer of dirt and blood on her face, her cheeks glistening with tears.

"Draco," she gasped, her voice quivering. Her bottom lip shook and he could tell it was taking everything in her not to give in to the emotions.

He wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms and tell her he loved her, that he was sorry for everything he'd done — whatever that was — but there was a look in her eyes that kept him motionless. Distrust, uncertainty, fear.

Lifting his hand, he reached for her, giving her the option to approach him.

"How touching," drawled his father — or the man who looked like a ghost of him — pulling Draco's attention away from Hermione. He stood behind his mother, one arm holding her to his body with his wand aimed at her neck, while the other was clamped down over her mouth, silencing her. She was fighting against him, trying to wrestle herself free of his hold.

Where Hermione and his mother looked worse for wear but about the same ages they had when he last remembered seeing them, his father — no, _Lucius_ — looked as though he had aged a few decades. His hair hung lifelessly around his face, and he hadn't shaved in days. Long gone was the proper pureblood Malfoy patriarch.

"Let her go," growled Draco, going to aim his wand at the older man and quickly realising that he didn't have one. "What has she ever done to you?" He stepped forward, edging closer in hopes of freeing her.

"Poor defenseless child," Lucius said wickedly, his arms tightening his hold on Draco's mother, attempting to stop her fighting. "It's not about her, boy. It's about _you_ — my insolent, worthless, failure of an heir. You've disgraced the Malfoy name, sullied yourself with a dirty Mudblood, and even under the Imperius Curse, you still managed to fail at the one task you were given. You're useless."

Blood pounded in Draco's ears. He failed? Failed at what? He wanted to scream, wanted someone to tell him what had happened and how much time had passed. But his father persisted.

"Do you think I wanted to marry a whore? _Twice_ they betrothed me to someone. The first woman, she was everything I could have wanted in a wife; obedient, pretty enough to have on my arm, weak. I didn't love her, but then, that's how arranged marriages work. Instead, the contract was broken and I was given _this_ "—he tightened his grip on his wife, making her gasp—"as a consolation prize. That's how Malfoys show love, you know. They take away what you love most."

Lucius continued, his voice strained from trying to keep Narcissa in his hold. "And since everyone you love is in this room, I'll make you watch as the life drains from their eyes, knowing the entire time that it's your fault they're dead."

Draco's eyes locked on his mother's, grey eyes meeting their match, finding a determination in them like he had never seen before. She wasn't giving up without a fight, not this time. Silent tears streamed down her face, and her chest heaved with laboured breaths.

Lucius Malfoy was not going to get away with his crimes any longer.

Her body writhed against his, her elbows pushing back into his sides. Lucius' grip on her faltered momentarily, but he held her captive, his arm across her chest. One hand shot up to claw his arms while the other reached for his side. Lucius let out a strangled gasp, his eyes widening. His body bent forward, his head leaning over her shoulder.

With a loud grunt, Narcissa pulled her hand away from his side and slammed the palm of it against his nose, pushing back into his skull. Lucius' hold on her released and the weight of his body fell to her, causing her to stumble forward, falling to her knees. The momentum of the fall forced his body off hers and he rolled to the floor, landing face first on the ground.

Draco watched as his mother looked down at her hands, red with her husband's blood. She let out a blood-curdling scream and doubled over, her fingers scratching at the wood floor, her body shaking. He rushed to her side, pulling her head into his lap as she emptied her lungs into the room.

"Shh, Mum, it's alright. It's over, it's over. He can't hurt you anymore," Draco whispered, running his hands along her hair. She gripped the sides of his robes, holding him close. "It's over."

A gentle hand fell on his shoulder and he turned his head to find Hermione standing behind him, flanked by Harry and Ron. She gave him a soft smile and bowed her head. "I'm so sorry," she mouthed.

Leaning his head against her hand, he closed his eyes and let the events of the last ten minutes wash over him. Had it only been ten minutes since the fog had lifted and he had been freed of his isolation?

"What happened?" he asked quietly, looking back up at Hermione.

She shook her head, brushing her fingers through his fringe. "It doesn't matter right now. We can talk about that later."

His mother lifted her head and released her hold on his sides. She wiped her hands under her eyes, clearing away the tears. "I'm so sorry, Draco. For everything."

He wanted to look at where Lucius lay, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to stomach the sight. "How did you — what did you — are you alright?"

She nodded her head quickly, her eyes lifting to meet Hermione's. "The knife Bella used on you landed by my feet when the chandelier fell. I was able to grab it when no one was paying attention. It's currently… it's currently lodged in his ribs."

"I'm so sorry, Narcissa. About your sister and your husband," Hermione replied. "This isn't how I wanted us to meet."

The older witch stood and took the younger's hands in hers. "It isn't how I imagined it either. One day, when this is all over, you'll come for tea and I'll show you the library. We can get to know each other then."

Hermione nodded, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. She smiled sadly at his mother before releasing her hands and turning to Draco.

As if nothing had happened, her tone shifted to matter-of-fact. "We need to clean this up. You-Know-Who can't come back and find two of his followers dead, all the prisoners gone, and the remaining two Malfoys missing."

"Wait, two? What happened to the chandelier? And what do you mean 'the knife Bella used'?" Draco could feel his heartbeat quicken. Nothing was making sense and no one was explaining anything. Didn't they understand what he had gone through? "What year is it?"

Taking one hand in hers, his mother stroked his cheek gently. "It's 1998, my Dragon. You were put under an Imperius Curse by Bellatrix shortly after you finished your fifth year. She recast the spell on you anytime you came home from school to keep its strength. When the chandelier fell and killed her, it broke the spell."

"And the knife?" he asked, his voice shaky. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what his aunt had done, but he needed the answer all the same.

Hermione interjected, her voice soft. "She's dead, Draco. It doesn't matter now. What does matter is getting us all out. We're running out of time."

"Dobby is here to be helping the great Harry Potter and his friends."

Everyone turned their attention to where the little elf stood atop of the fallen chandelier. He held one of the screws in his small hand.

"Dobby, can you take us all to Shell Cottage?" Harry asked.

"Of course Dobby can."

"I can't go with you," Draco's mother said. "Take Draco, but I need to stay behind and cover for you all. The Dark Lord won't be happy."

Draco opened his mouth to protest but Hermione interrupted. "She's right. If we all leave, it'll ruin any chances we have of getting the last three Horcruxes. Mrs. Malfoy, are you aware of anything valuable in your sister's vault? Something of high value, perhaps was once owned by a Hogwarts founder?"

"I'm not sure. But I should be able to check once the mess here is sorted out. When I find what you're looking for, I'll have one of my elves bring it to you at, where did you say? Shell Cottage?" Hermione nodded her head. "I'll have it sent there."

"What about you?" Draco asked finally. "How are you going to explain all of this to You-Know-Who?"

"Don't worry about me, my love," she said calmly, her voice soothing away his worries. "My Occlumency _and_ Legilimency skills are far stronger than his. I can convince him that Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley attacked and killed them before escaping with you and the other prisoners. With no one else in the room when it happened, I can also say that I was not around for it. It'll be safer this way."

Hermione slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently. "You mother is right, Draco. With the Imperius Curse broken, you'd be more likely to disobey his orders and he would kill you on the spot. We need you alive…" She swallowed and her eyes dropped to the floor. "I just got you back."

With the plans settled, Harry and Ron moved about the room, collecting wands and Gryffindor's sword and placing it all back in Hermione's bag. They allowed Dobby to take Harry and Ron to Shell Cottage first, giving them the chance to explain to Bill and Fleur what had happened while Draco said goodbye to his mother.

"I don't want to leave you here," he said. "I can't protect you if I'm gone."

"You did. When your father was alive, you protected me. It's my turn to protect you." She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her chest.

Burrowing his head in the crook of her neck, Draco memorised the feeling of being protected, of being loved unconditionally like this. So many opportunities with his mother had been stolen from them by a man with no heart.

When they broke apart, she moved to take Hermione into her arms, whispering something to her that Draco couldn't hear. The younger witch nodded, the corners of her lips turning up softly.

"I promise," she whispered. Her hand brushed against his again, their fingers twisting together.

With one final look at his mother, Draco allowed Dobby to transport them to Shell Cottage.

* * *

Their feet had only touched the beach a moment before Harry approached them, Draco's wand in his hand.

"You'll get this back when I know you don't have any leftover curse still lingering in there." He motioned towards Draco's head. "Plus Bill and Fleur said it was the only way they'd let you in the house."

"That… that makes sense," he agreed.

Hermione's hand slipped from his and she shuffled awkwardly next to him, creating distance. He looked between her and Harry, and back again, wondering if something had happened between them while he had been under the fog.

"I'll give you a moment," Harry said. "Come on, Dobby. Luna said she'd like some help in the garden."

"Oh, Dobby would be most happy to help Harry Potter's friend." The little elf walked next to Harry, looking up at him wide-eyed. "Dobby is happy to be with his friend Harry Potter."

Draco watched as the two left, leaving him and Hermione alone. He turned his focus back to her, taking in all the small changes he hadn't noticed before. She was much shorter than him now and her hair was longer. But she was still Hermione, still the same person he fell in love with.

"Come on," she said, walking over towards one of the bluffs and plopping down on the sand. "How are you?"

"Honestly?" he asked. "I'm confused. There were moments in the past two years when I remember things, or at least I think I do, but I don't know when they were. All of them took place at Hogwarts. You were there for a few of them. Did we — did we interact much over the last two years?"

Her fingers played at the frayed ends of her jumper and Draco noticed the poor shape it was in. It looked as if she'd Scourgified it multiple times, the magic slowly wearing down at the threads of Muggle clothing.

"You made it very clear that you didn't want me around any more. You spent a lot of time with Pansy, Theo, and Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle were there too, but more on the side. I approached you once in the spring, May I think, and you brushed me off completely."

"I remember that, I think. I could see you and that you were hurt, but I couldn't do anything to help you."

She looked off at the water lapping on the shores of the beach. The sky had darkened considerably and he was sure it was going to rain on them any minute. It would be fitting though, to have rain cleanse them of all that had just happened and all they were covered in.

After a few moments of silence, she spoke again, her voice quiet. "What else do you remember?"

Draco told her of the last memory he had, the one with Dumbledore and Snape, as well as the time before that when he fought Harry in the bathroom. She listened quietly, nodding when he asked her if events had truly happened, and correcting him when his memory had failed. Seeing that Ron was alive and learning that he hadn't killed Katie either had been a huge relief.

Finding out that he had been partially to blame for Dumbledore's death would take more time.

Inhaling the salty air, he tipped his head back as the first few drops of rain fell. "The first time I broke through the fog was… well I don't know when, but I saw you. You were in this red dress and it was like the entire world was focused on you."

"Slughorn's party," she said with a far off smile and a small laugh. "You were caught snooping outside and Filch dragged you in. I went with McLaggen; dreadful decision."

The thought had been nagging at him since they sat down. With so much time lossed, and with how cruel he had apparently been during that time, there had always been the chance that she had moved on and found someone else. He saw how protective Harry was of her; it would be logical for her to find comfort in the arms of her other best friend, and perhaps that comfort had led to more.

Admittedly, Draco was not a Gryffindor. He was not one to put himself in danger or to be the hero — he left that to Hermione, Harry, and Ron — but he remembered what his Patronus once was. Somewhere inside him was a lion, brave and waiting to be called upon.

"Was there anyone else you… went on dates with?"

"No. There was never anyone else. Though McLaggen did try to kiss me."

He let out a heavy sigh and felt a significant weight lift off his shoulders. Things were going to be different between them, and they may never be able to get back to what they once were, but there was a small glimmer of hope for them, and Draco wasn't going to let go.

His fingers stretched out in the sand, the tips brushing across her knuckles. Her face remained unchanged, but her palm flipped over and allowed him to clasp her hand in his. She gave him a light squeeze, her thumb moving to create small circles on the back on his hand.

"Hermione—" His voice cracked, emotion leaking out.

She turned to look at him, her cheeks shiny with fresh fallen tears. "I really missed you, Draco. Don't you ever leave me like that again."

Pulling her close, he crushed her body to his chest, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere."

With his nose buried in her hair, they stayed like that, quiet but together, even as the skies opened up.


	19. FLASHBACK: Seventh Year part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, seventh year part 2! No warnings but it does cover the battle.

**April 1997**

_Haven't heard from you in a while. Are you alright? -GW_

_Yes. Long story. Hope to tell you soon. -HG_

_Ferret is safe with us. -HG_

_How is RW? -LB_

_Good, safe, alive. I'll return him to you soon. -HG_

"What's that?" asked Draco, coming up behind Hermione as she sat on the bluffs of Shell Cottage.

They had been there for a few weeks, waiting for Narcissa to arrive with the next Horcrux, and trying to determine what to do next. Harry was in a constant battle with Griphook over Gryffindor's sword; the goblin believed that it was rightfully his, while Harry was certain that it needed to remain in their possession until the end of the war.

Hermione looked down at her necklace and then patted the ground beside her. Draco sat down, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her close.

"They're charmed Galleons like the ones I used in fifth year," she explained. "I've been in touch with Ginny and Lavender while we've been on the run."

His fingers danced along the coin, taking in all the little details on it. Lifting his eyes to meet hers, he smiled and tucked the necklace back into her jumper. His lips were so close to hers and she contemplated leaning in to kiss him. Things were still hesitant between them, still fresh.

It was like starting all over again.

Draco stood up and offered his hand to her. "You should come in soon. Bill is taking Ollivander to Aunt Muriel's house tonight and Dobby and Fleur prepared a full feast for us all."

She reached up and let him pull her to her feet. Their hands fell between them, still clasped together. "Not Griphook?"

"Harry wants to keep him here in case we can't wait any longer."

"Any word from your mum?" she asked nervously.

"Not yet but I'm trying not to think about it. It's hard to sleep at night not knowing if she's alive," he said. "Plus the sofa isn't very comfortable, even with a few cushioning charms on it."

"One more week, then we need to move one way or the other."

He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "I know. I just hope she's okay."

* * *

**May 1998**

A week had passed since Ollivander's departure and there had still been no word from Narcissa. Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Draco had spent the past month coming up with a plan to break into Gringotts and find the Horcrux in Bellatrix's vault if necessary. It wasn't the best plan, and Hermione could see places where it might fail, but it was the best option they had.

And without Narcissa, it was the _only_ option.

Draco was more sceptical about it all, trying to find a way out of it. "Are you sure I can't just go in as myself? Since I'm a Black descendant, I shouldn't have a problem."

"Look," Harry said impatiently. "You either let Hermione disillusion you, transform your appearance, or you stay behind. Those are your options. But we leave tomorrow morning."

"Alright, fine," he grumbled. "Change my appearance, I'm tired of looking like Lucius. Ron can be Disillusioned. I, at least, know the mannerisms of a Death Eater."

No one slept that night. Hermione snuck downstairs in the middle of the night and curled up next to him on the sofa, her face snuggled into his chest. It was the most contact they'd had since the events at Malfoy Manor and he was thankful she was giving him at least that much. Part of him feared he'd be killed before he had the chance to kiss her one last time. Her willingness to be close gave him hope that he hadn't completely lost her.

As dawn arrived, they all quietly got dressed and moved out to the garden. Hermione took the Polyjuice Potion, her form shifting to that of his aunt's, bringing back harsh memories and making the hair on Draco's neck stand on end.

She transfigured his features; darkening his hair, softening his jaw and nose, and making his eye colour closer to the chocolate brown of hers. Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over himself and Griphook, while Ron was spelled to disappear. They had tossed around the idea of having both Ron and Draco's appearances changed, but ultimately decided it would create too many problems with identification.

Draco toyed with the Hawthorn wand in his hand. It was still his, still worked, but ever since Harry had won it from him at Malfoy Manor, it felt estranged. The dark-haired wizard was using one they had taken from the Snatchers and had been struggling with it ever since.

"Wait. Harry, switch wands with me," Draco said, holding his wand out.

Slipping the cloak off his head, Harry looked at him, his eyebrows pulled tight together. "Are you sure? This is your wand."

"You heard Ollivander. You won this from me when you disarmed me. It's more yours than mine right now."

Harry took the wand gingerly and cast a few spells, each of them perfect. "This is… thanks, Draco."

"Now that we've settled the wands, can we leave?" snapped Hermione. Her tone of voice, mixed with her appearance, was almost too much for Draco.

Hermione and Draco Apparated to the bank together, while Ron took Harry and Griphook. They landed in their predetermined spot and, after ensuring they were all there in one piece, made their way to the large building at the end of Diagon Alley.

Posters hung all over the place, each of them with another familiar face on it, most of them Harry's. _Undesirable #1_. It was unsettling to see how the world had shifted from praising Harry to wanting him dead in such a short amount of time.

The goblins at Gringotts had clearly known something wasn't right with the situation. They questioned Hermione more than they would the real Bellatrix, but she handled it exactly as the original would have. Harry's mumbled ' _Imperio_ ' only helped ensure that they didn't run into any further problems. Soon, they were piled uncomfortably into one of the bank's carts.

Seeing how the curse affected the goblin bank teller was nauseating for Draco. Had he spent the year looking that glassy-eyed? Or was it just because Harry wasn't as proficient in the curse as Bellatrix was?

The cart jerked along the track, down further into the belly of the building. It twisted deeper and deeper, curling around sharp corners and picking up speed. Draco's own vault was this far down, but he admittedly never paid much attention to the trip. It certainly had never felt this long before.

"No!" shouted Griphook, just as the cart moved around a corner and under a waterfall. The vehicle came to a stop before flipping over and dropping them all out, letting them freefall to the hard ground below.

Hermione shouted out a spell and their descent slowed, dropping them onto the floor painlessly.

"The Thief's Downfall," Griphook explained as they stood and dusted themselves off.

Draco moved to Hermione, ensuring that she was alright, while Harry placed the goblin teller under an Imperius again. They still needed him to access Bellatrix's vault. The group headed down one of the twisting paths, leading to the vaults that were heavily guarded by a dragon. Since his own vault was in a different area, Draco had never seen the dragon, and it made him sick to see how poorly the creature was treated.

When the door to Bellatrix's vault slid open, Harry quickly described the cup and they split up to look for it. It became apparent that Bellatrix had added extra charms to her vault that allowed only her to touch the items, burning the skin of the intruder and duplicating quickly. Draco had assumed that any protection she placed would recognise him as a Black family member and allow him full access, but the minute a small coin touched his skin, he knew that wasn't the case.

"It's there!" Harry said, the light of his wand aimed at a small golden cup. "How do I get up there?"

Hermione aimed her wand at him as the objects around them clanged, duplicating and burning their flesh, trying to trap them in the space. Draco's heart pounded in his ears as he watched Harry rise into the air, Gryffindor's sword stretched out in front of him. He hooked the cup on the end of the blade and Draco exhaled a lungful of air he didn't know he'd been holding.

As she lowered Harry to the ground, he shifted and hit a suit of armour, setting off a chain reaction of items replicating around them. Griphook and the goblin bank teller were knocked into other valuables, and the vault was filling quickly. Draco gasped in pain, trying to get away from the molten hot treasure, but that only caused him to bump into more things.

The sword Harry was holding flew from his hands and skittered to a stop. Griphook fought Harry for it, reaching the prized item before any of the others had a chance to grab it. The cup was flung from the blade and Draco was able to pluck it from the air before it was sucked into the avalanche of silver and gold raining down on them.

They managed to escape the vault as Griphook disappeared with the sword, yelling to anyone around them that thieves were trying to escape with stolen treasure.

"Come on!" Harry yelled, leading them over to where the dragon was tethered and releasing the chains around its ankles. "It's our only option."

Harry and Ron climbed on to the giant beast and Draco helped Hermione up, settling in behind her with his hands on her hips. Once the dragon realised it had been freed, it tore through the passages of Gringotts, breathing fire as it went. Even pressed as close to the beast as they could, Draco still wasn't sure how they were going to get out alive.

Hermione aimed her wand ahead of them, casting a spell that exploded through the ceiling of the bank and giving them a clear path to the world above. The dragon broke through the doors of Gringotts, took one look around before soaring into the air, its wings stretched out wide. A loud screech echoed from its lungs, the taste of freedom hitting the great beast as much as it had Draco.

Another close call, another step closer to defeating Voldemort and saving his mother.

* * *

Draco was done with being the hero. As soon as this war was over, whenever that was, he was retiring from it all. He'd take Hermione and run off to some cabin in the woods — a large cabin, of course, perhaps more of an estate — and they'd live out the rest of their days in a peaceful and easy quiet.

Not whatever this hell was.

The dragon deposited them in a lake somewhere between London and Scotland before flying up into the night sky. They were cold, wet, and badly burned from the vault. Hermione pulled some Dittany out of her bag, along with fresh robes for each of them, and they set up a small camp while they figured out their next steps. With the cup in hand, but no sword, they were back at square one.

Draco noticed Harry looking off into the distance, a glazed look on his face. When he gave Hermione a questioning look, she shook her head. "He has a connection to You-Know-Who. It's how we've been able to get as far as we have."

A few minutes later, Harry's focus returned, panic alive in his eyes. "He knows. He knows and he's going to check where the others are. The last one is at Hogwarts, I knew it!"

Squishing together under the Invisibility Cloak, Draco allowed Hermione to Apparate them all to Hogsmeade, knowing it was the best chance for them to get onto the school grounds.

As soon as they landed on High Street and alarms went off, Hermione transfigured him again. It wouldn't do for someone on either side to spot him and attack them all. They needed to get into the castle and destroy the last Horcrux.

A dark figure had called them into one of the pubs, slamming the door behind them and sending them up a hidden staircase and to a private room. The figure joined them moments later after yelling at the Death Eaters that stormed the streets looking for the group of fugitives.

Harry quickly put the pieces together; the eye he'd been seeing in the broken shard of mirror that he'd carried with him belonged to Aberforth Dumbledore, and the man had been the one to send Dobby to Malfoy Manor to rescue them.

"Thought he'd be with you," Aberforth said. "Where've you left him?"

"Safe, sir. With Ron's family," Hermione replied.

"Hmm," the old man grumbled. "Good. I like that little elf."

Draco sat quietly while Harry and Aberforth fought about Dumbledore's intentions, and the more he listened, the more Draco felt that the old man was right. Dumbledore _wasn't_ the most forthcoming person, constantly leaving out pieces of information and turning every answer into a riddle. Plus he had a soft spot for Gryffindors that often left the rest of Hogwarts' students feeling like second-rate citizens.

Aberforth told them of his younger sister, Ariana, and the tragedy their family had endured. Since Draco hadn't ever had a sibling, much of the love and support Aberforth talked about in regards to his sister was lost on him, but he knew what it was like to protect someone you cared deeply for. He knew if he ever lost his mother it would crush him completely.

"The night that your brother died, he drank a potion that drove him out of his mind. He started screaming, pleading with someone that wasn't there," Harry explained, finally talking about a night that Draco only knew bits and pieces of.

Over the last month, Hermione had filled him in on various parts of their sixth year, but there was only so much she knew. She hadn't planned on telling him about the Sectumsempra incident, but when he emerged from the loo that first time, terrified out of his mind, she took pity on him and made Harry explain what happened. The dark-haired wizard apologised profusely, trying to tell him that he was aiming at Nott and that he didn't know what the spell was meant to do.

"We need to get into Hogwarts!" Harry shouted, standing, his hands clenched into tight fists. "If you can't help us, we'll leave at daybreak and let you be in peace. If you _can_ help us, I suggest you mention it now."

Aberforth looked to the girl in the portrait, Ariana, and nodded his head. Draco watched as she retreated, returning moments later with another figure beside her. The portrait swung open, revealing a dark tunnel and Neville Longbottom.

"Harry! I knew you'd be back," said Neville, smiling. He looked each of them over, pausing only when he got to Draco. "Who are you?"

"We'll explain later. Come on," Harry replied.

The four of them walked down the long pathway to wherever it led, listening to Neville briefly recap what had been happening over the past year. Hermione's hand slipped into his, squeezing tight. It was hard to see her face in the dim glow of their wands, but he imagined she was giving him a reassuring smile, silently reminding him that Harry and Ron still didn't know she had been communicating with Ginny and Lavender.

Finally, they found themselves in a large room full of students. There were colours from each of the houses hanging from every pillar and beam, though Draco noticed that emerald green was missing from the group. As soon as the occupants caught sight of them, they swarmed the group, trying to pull Harry into a hug or to pat him on the back for returning in one piece.

"RON!"

The gathering of students in front of them parted and Lavender Brown launched herself into Ron's arms, burrowing her face into his neck. Draco looked away as the wizard's arms tightened around his witch's centre, offering them a moment of privacy. He scanned the room, looking for anyone from his house, and coming up short. There wasn't even a single first or second year Slytherin.

"What's the plan?" Seamus asked loudly.

Harry looked at him dumbfounded. "Plan? Well, uh, there's something the four of us need to do, then we'll get out of here." He motioned to where Draco stood with Hermione and over to Ron, who was still clinging to Lavender as if his life depended on her.

"What do you mean get out of here? You can't leave," Neville protested. Gone was the weak Gryffindor Draco used to taunt and tease, replaced by a man who was going to take charge and lead, a man who was braver than Draco ever imagined he could be.

"What do you mean 'four'? Who's that bloke?" asked Seamus, pointing directly at Draco, his tone accusatory.

Hermione's grip on his hand tightened to the point that he thought she might be cutting off his circulation. She gave him a reassuring nod and aimed her wand at his face. The transfigurations disappeared and he was left standing in front of a room full of people who hated him, with nothing left to hide behind.

"No. No way, I don't want him here. Harry, how could you?" Neville demanded. "Did you forget what he did to Dumbledore? Who he let into the castle?"

"Look," Harry said calmly. "It's a long story — one I promise we'll tell — but right now I need you to believe me when I say that he's on our side. We don't have time for fighting here, not when You-Know-Who is still out there."

The room broke out into chaos, people talking over each other, trying to convince Harry to let them in on the plan, to let them kick Draco out and leave him for the centaurs. The tunnel door behind them swung open, revealing Luna and Dean and silencing the chatter.

"I sent for them," Neville explained. "We all knew that if you showed up, it would mean a revolution. That we're finally going to be able to overthrow the Carrows and Snape."

"Of course that's what it means," said Luna, her voice light and airy. "Hello, Draco. It's nice to see you again."

He nodded at her, his lips pressed into a tight line. Even after spending time with Luna at Shell Cottage, he still found it strange to interact with her. Even though his family held her captive for months, she still didn't associate him with them. "You're different, Draco Malfoy," she had told him. "I can see the light in you and your mother."

The tunnel door swung open again, allowing a small parade led by Ginny, followed closely behind by the Weasley twins and a few other Gryffindors, and Cho Chang to enter the room. The red-headed witch tossed a wink to Harry, grinning as his face turned bright red with the attention. They didn't make a move towards each other, but Draco could tell they were silently communicating.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "We need their help. You don't have to do this alone."

Ron, Lavender, and Ginny joined the small group, each of them nodding their heads.

"Alright, fine." He rubbed at his scar, a look of pain flashing across his face. Turning to the rest of the group, he spoke loudly. "We need help finding something. It'll help us overthrow You-Know-Who. It would have belonged to Ravenclaw."

It was quickly determined that the item might be Ravenclaw's lost diadem, though no one had seen it. Ginny suggested Luna take Harry to Ravenclaw Tower so they could see what it looked like, tossing a scathing look to Cho.

The group quieted, left alone and unsure of what to do next. Some of them eyed Draco uneasily, leaving a wide breadth of space around where he stood, whispering to the person next to them.

"We should contact the Order," Ginny said. She turned to her brothers. "Get a message to Dad, let him know. He'll be able to reach the others."

Hermione ran her hands down her face. "I can't just stay here and wait. I need to do something."

"We still don't know how to destroy the thing once we get it," Draco said. "That sneaky bastard goblin had to go and take the sword."

"What about the Basilisk?" Ron asked slowly, unsure.

"I can't believe I didn't think of it first. That's brilliant, Ron!" Hermione said, her face splitting into a wide grin.

Draco looked between the two. "Does someone want to clue me on why that monster is the key to this all right now?"

"I'll explain on the way. Ron, stay with the others and let the Order know what's going on. Tell them Draco is on our side. Ginny, Lavender, you know how to reach me if something happens." She patted her chest where the medallion rested under her jumper. Grabbing Draco's hand, Hermione pulled him to the part of the room that Harry and Luna exited from earlier.

They ended up on the third floor. Hermione led them through the corridors, keeping to the shadows and trying to avoid anyone unsavoury. When they reached the girls' bathroom on the second floor, Draco finally stopped her.

"Hermione, what's your plan here?"

"The venom from the Basilisk was on the sword and that's why we were able to destroy the first Horcrux. If we can go get some of the teeth or something from the beast, then we can destroy the others." She reached for the taps on the sink, her hand brushing against the snake pattern. "We just need to get in somehow. Any chance you know Parseltongue?"

"I might be able to help," said a high-pitched voice.

It tugged on one of Draco's memories, something trying to resurface. A bathroom, a duel, and then nothing.

"We don't have time Myrtle," Hermione snapped.

The ghost appeared, floating in front of them. "Hello, Draco. It's nice to see you're finally you again. It was so sad watching such a handsome boy like you waste away into nothing." She batted her translucent eyelashes at him, moving forward to snuggle up.

"What? You knew I wasn't myself?" he asked, his brows pulled together. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"No one ever listens to poor old Moaning Myrtle. They say I'm batty and annoying. Just a little girl that died. Obviously good for nothing anymore."

Hermione sighed. "Can you help us?"

The ghost let out a girlish laugh. "For a price"—she looked longingly at Draco—"I can help you with whatever you need."

"Please," Draco pleaded. "The boy that killed you? We're trying to defeat him and we need your help."

Myrtle sighed and flew towards the pipes leading to the sink. A strange hissing sound escaped her lips, and the snakes along the tap began moving, sliding away from the seam. The sounds of bolts clicking into place echoed through the room until finally, it opened, revealing a slide into darkness.

"How did you do that?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"I heard Harry do it last time. Ghosts remember everything," she replied simply. "But no one cares about us enough to find out."

"Thank you. You may have just helped us win this war," Draco said. "And sorry for snapping at you earlier. I'm sure you were very… nice… to me last year."

She batted her eyelashes at him again and giggled before flying up through one of the walls.

Hermione gave him a reassuring smile before slipping out of sight. He followed close behind, his stomach lurching into his chest at the steep slope and quick descent. They landed in a dark cavern, facing the door of a vault.

The chamber was unlike anything Draco had ever seen before. It was quiet; the only sounds heard were the steady drips of water. Large pieces of dried snakeskin lay abandoned in the twisting tunnels, leading them to an open room and the skeleton of the monstrous snake.

Hermione rushed forward, grabbing at the large teeth that had fallen out of its mouth. She pulled Hufflepuff's cup out of her bag and placed it on the ground in front of her. She was poised, ready to stab the cup, when her hand stopped and her eyes lifted to his, open wide and terrified.

"I can't do this."

Moving to kneel beside her, Draco wrapped her hand in his. "You can do this. You're Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of her Age. You can do anything."

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, her chest heaving. She lurched forward, her lips crushing his. His free hand moved to twist into her hair, holding her mouth to his, as his other hand helped guide the fang down onto the cup with full force.

Darkness swirled around them and he could hear his father's words echoing in the air.

_"Poor defenseless_ _child."_

_"You're useless."_

_"Disgrace to the Malfoy name."_

Hermione's hand released the fang and moved to grip his shirt, keeping him from being sucked into the memories of Lucius. Their lips moved in tandem, his tongue darting against the seam of her lips, begging for entrance. Granting him access, he relished in the feeling of her mouth pressed to his, as if no time had passed at all since their last kiss. As if this wasn't happening in the middle of a war.

The air around them stilled and the kiss broke, each of them gasping breathlessly. Her cheeks were flushed and wet with tears. Lifting his hand, Draco wiped the dampness from her skin and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Let's go get this bastard," she said softly. "This ends tonight."

* * *

Hermione hadn't been wrong about the war ending that evening. Voldemort's voice had told them all as much moments before as she ran through the halls with Draco back to the Room of Requirement.

Harry and Ron met up with them as they climbed the steps to the seventh floor. They quickly caught each other up on what had happened and watched as Harry asked the Room for something new. The door appeared and they pushed through, finding themselves amongst towers of assorted items.

"It's over here somewhere," Harry explained. "Let's split up."

Ron and Harry went off in one direction while Hermione led Draco in another. They passed by a tall cabinet, the door hanging off a hinge.

"Is that…" Draco asked quietly.

She nodded her head and continued moving away from it. It wouldn't do to dwell on the things they couldn't control right now. There would be plenty of time after the war for them to exorcise their demons. Now was not the time.

Voices floated through the air and Hermione stopped, Draco crashing into her. She held her hand up to silence him, listening carefully.

"Someone's here," she mouthed, and motioned for him to head back.

They stopped a few feet away from where Harry and Ron stood, their wands aimed at Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle was taunting them, asking why Harry had Draco's wand, reminding him that the Dark Lord was going to kill them all that night.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione aimed her wand at a large tower of books beside where the two Slytherins stood. She cast a silent spell and the tower fell, causing books, robes, and other pieces of junk to go flying. Harry and Ron jumped back from the debris, running in the opposite direction.

Hermione and Draco darted around another stack of items, trying to meet up with Harry and Ron on the other side. Spells echoed around the room as things exploded and rained down upon them, blocking their path and forcing them to turn around.

"It's that Mudblood!" Crabbe sneered, standing in front of them. " _Avada Kedavra_!"

Yelping, Hermione ducked down, bringing Draco with her. She shot off Stunning Spells at Crabbe, distracting him long enough for them to get past. Goyle could be heard yelling at the others, though Harry was able to disarm him as they finally met up.

A loud roaring noise came from behind them, heat rushing at the backs of their feet. Flames that looked like dragons curled around corners, swallowing up items and pushing them deeper into the room. Suffocating smoke billowed around them. It cut off any chance they had of seeing Crabbe or Goyle and left them vulnerable.

"What do we do now?" Hermione said, panicked.

"Here!" Harry grabbed two broomsticks and tossed one to Draco. "You and Draco go together and Ron and I will take the other. Keep your eye out for the diadem!"

Taking the broom from him, Draco asked, "What about Crabbe and Goyle? We can't just leave them."

"Why not? They tried to kill us," said Ron.

"Did you see any other Slytherins in the room when we got here? No. No one gives a shit about Slytherins right now and _someone has to_."

Hermione gripped his arm. "Alright, we'll keep an eye out for them as well. We need to hurry."

They mounted their brooms, Hermione sitting in front while Draco straddled it behind her. She gripped the handle tightly, her stomach in knots at the thought of flying. He wrapped his arms around her waist and the pressure of his chest against her back calmed her slightly.

Kicking off into the air, they rose above the smoke and Draco manoeuvred them away from the attacking fire dragons. As they were nearing the exit, they caught sight of Crabbe and Goyle, and the broom dipped lower. With one hand clinging to the wooden handle, she extended her arm and Crabbe reached for it.

"If you try to attack us, I will drop you," she threatened. "Don't try anything."

Harry and Ron came in after them, pulling Goyle up from the thick smoke and swooping back up out with him in tow. They all sped up, heading towards the door as the flames lunged at them aggressively. Crabbe's grip on Hermione's hand tightened as one of the dragons tried to nip at his feet.

Suddenly the door appeared and they were spat out into the corridor, coughing and covered in black soot. Hermione could feel pain blossoming across her legs where the fire had scorched her skin. She released Crabbe's hand, watching as he dropped to the ground. He and Goyle collected themselves before darting off around the corner and out of sight.

"Fuck," Draco grumbled, landing the broom with ease. "They know I'm here with you. That's not good."

"One thing at a time," Hermione replied. She looked over to Harry and Ron, noticing Harry had something looped on his arm. "What's that?"

He pulled the ring off his arm and held it in his hand. The item shook suddenly before disintegrating into dust.

"Well, that _was_ the diadem. Whatever those flames were must have destroyed it."

"Fiendfyre," she explained. "It's one of the substances that can destroy Horcruxes. I never mentioned it because it's nearly impossible to contain and one of you would have burned down half of England's forests if you knew how to cast it. This means we only have the snake left though, we just need to get—"

Loud shouts and sounds of spells ricocheting off the walls cut her off and the foursome ran towards the sound. They saw the Death Eaters first, and then flashes of red hair. Running towards them with their wands out, Hermione was ready to shoot off a shielding spell. Ron sprinted ahead of them, a smile on his face, ready to fight alongside his brothers.

Percy and Fred were facing off against Thicknesse, whose hood had fallen, exposing his identity.

"Did I mention I'm resigning?" Percy yelled, slashing his wand through the air.

"You're joking, Perce! You actually _are_ joking, Perce. I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"

Fred's response cut off and the world around them slowed to a stop. An explosion went off, separating the group and knocking them to the ground. Hermione felt the pull from her lungs as a voice screamed in the distance. Rubble crashed around them, fallen stones scraping at her already raw skin. Cold air rushed in as the side of the castle fell apart.

Draco's hand reached out to her, pulling her to her feet as another scream echoed off the remaining walls. Dust was floating through the air but she was able to see three red-headed men grouped together on the ground where the wall had blasted apart. She stumbled forward, gripping Draco's hand on one side and reaching for Harry's with her other.

"No — no — no!" someone shouted. "NO!"

Hermione held her breath as Percy's head lifted, his cheek slashed open and his eyes red-rimmed. She squeezed Draco and Harry's hands, the sound of the explosion still ringing in her ears.

She saw it. One brother shaking the other, kneeling over him.

Her heart shattered into a million pieces as she watched the light in his blue eyes fading quickly.

"Ron! Ron, no!"

* * *

Ron was dead.

Snape was dead.

Lupin was dead.

Draco stood in the Great Hall, looking at all the bodies around him, a growing pit building in his stomach. His arms were wrapped tightly around Hermione's waist, keeping her steady as she stood and stared at her best friend's body, her chest still heaving with grief. It had taken both his and Harry's strength to pull her off of Ron. Fred and Percy had carried him out of harm's way before running off to fight a group of Death Eaters that were heard around the corner.

He surveyed the room. Most of the Weasleys were crowded around Ron, and his cousin, Nymphadora, sat next to Lupin, his cold hand held between hers. She whispered words to her fallen husband, telling him that she was going to raise their son to know all about the Marauders.

Dolohov had cornered Lupin, attacking him with the same spell he had hit Hermione with in fifth year, though since he wasn't silenced, the curse was fatal. Tonks had used her Metamorphmagus abilities to transform herself into a Death Eater, waiting until Dolohov's guard was down before avenging her husband.

Searching the room once more, Draco spotted Lavender on a table with Madam Pomfrey tending to her wounds. She was badly hurt and her face would be permanently scarred, but it looked as if she would physically make a full recovery. A teary-eyed Bill Weasley stood on her other side, consoling her and reminding her that her life wasn't over.

Emotionally, she looked distraught over losing Ron, and Draco could tell that she wanted to be by his side with his family. Molly had been the one to tell the young girl about her deceased boyfriend, and it was heart-wrenching to watch as Lavender tried to console the Weasley matriarch while dealing with her own grief and injuries.

Draco continued to scan the fallen and was no sign of Slytherin students, though that didn't mean they weren't out there fighting. He just hoped it was on Harry's side.

Harry…

He leaned forward so his lips were by Hermione's ear, not wanting to draw the attention of anyone else. "Have you seen Harry?"

She shook her head and turned to look up at him. Her eyes were glassy. "We all came here together. I'm sure he's helping someone else."

"You don't think…" Draco's voice trailed off.

"No. No he wouldn't be that daft. His best friend just died in front of him. He wouldn't go running off to have himself killed."

"You're probably right." He wanted to believe her, he really did, but Harry had a knack for running towards danger when he should really be running away from it. They needed him alive, and sacrificing himself to Voldemort would discourage everyone.

There was a commotion outside the hall's large doors, causing many of its occupants to filter out into the Entrance Hall. He heard people mentioning Death Eaters and Voldemort, that they were on their way.

"We should go see what's happening," he suggested, sliding his hands up and down Hermione's arms. He needed to get her away from Ron and Lupin and all of the other lost souls. She needed a purpose.

They pushed through the crowd, towards the front. Draco would have rather stayed tucked away in the back where he knew Hermione would be safe, but she was the one who moved closer, so he went with her. The remaining Weasleys followed them, forming a protective wall made up of the Order and Dumbledore's Army in front of the other students.

The dark group of Death Eaters stood in front of them, still outside the castle, led by the snake-like monster. Easily spotted, Hagrid stood at the front of the fray, carrying what looked like a body. Draco felt Hermione's hand tighten around his, her muttered ' _No'_ s growing louder.

Harry.

Professor McGonagall let out a loud scream, one that he knew would haunt his nightmares. Others in the crowd noticed the limp body, gasping and shouting in response. If that was Harry, and Draco knew there was no way that it wasn't, the war was over and they had lost. He would be killed on the spot for betraying his family and Hermione and the others would follow.

"Silence!" Voldemort yelled. "It is over. Set him down at my feet where he belongs."

Hagrid shuffled over and lowered the body to the ground. The head rolled to the side, exposing Harry's face, his lightning scar on full display. Hermione's body shook beside Draco, and he wrapped his arm around her to steady them both. He thought his knees might give out, or his lungs would be crushed by the weight of his emotions.

Even if they somehow managed to defeat Voldemort, Draco and Hermione had lost their two best friends. There was some pain a person just couldn't heal from, and he thought this might be it.

"You see? Harry Potter is dead!"

So simple. So final. Four words to change it all.

"Some of you fought valiantly, and for that I shall reward you. Come join my ranks and I will spare you and your family." Voldemort's red eyes scanned the crowd, falling on Draco quickly. "Draco. Come join us."

His feet wouldn't move, couldn't move. He was made of stone.

The row of people in front of them broke apart, giving Draco a clear path to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Hermione clung to him, her broken voice pleading that he stay.

"Don't go, Draco, don't. We can still win — we can—"

"Very well," Voldemort said after a moment. "Bring her forward."

There was movement on the other side of the room and a tall blonde woman stepped forward. She looked exactly as she had the last time he saw her, put together and perfectly poised. Though, Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, was never anything less than perfection, even in the worst situations. She stood there, her back straight and her chin held high. Her grey eyes never left Draco's.

The snake-man spoke directly to Draco, the rest of the group listening intently. "Your mother is quite the witch, as I'm sure you know. It would be a shame if I had to end both the Malfoy and Black bloodlines today. Your last chance, Draco. Join us, or she will share the same fate as your father."

_Oh, my Dragon, you look so happy._

Her voice echoed in his mind and nearly broke him. He couldn't do this. He wasn't resilient enough to choose between his family and Hermione.

_There is no choice to be made, Draco. You have grown into such a strong young man, with an equally strong witch by your side. Make me proud._

He wanted to scream at her, tell her to stop, to not give up. He could save her. He had saved her countless times from the monster; what was one more? She couldn't leave him. What would he do?

Her eyes flickered down to where he held Hermione's like life support.

_It's alright, my Dragon. You don't need me anymore. I love you always._

Narcissa's eyes never left his, even as a wand was aimed at her back, even as the spell was cast and green light filled the space.

Even as her body fell to the hard ground, her eyes never left his.

* * *

The air was pulled from his lungs as his knees gave out. He knew it was his voice that screamed for his mother, but he had no recollection of making the sound. There was barely any sound at all. Anger coursed through his veins and the need for retaliation spiked.

This fucking monster killed his mother. His innocent mother.

He could feel someone holding onto his arm and shoulder, shaking him, but he ignored it. Nothing mattered except the fact that his mother was dead and Voldemort had killed her right in front of him.

With Harry gone and unable to finish the job, Draco would take over. He would be the one to avenge the fallen. To ensure that his mother's death wasn't for naught.

"—Draco, Draco. I need you to listen. Stand up. Stand up and fight—"

A calming voice, the only voice that could possibly convince him to do something other than attack the bastard, echoed in his ear.

"Draco, look at me." Her small hand pressed against his cheek, forcing him to turn and look at her. "You need to stand up. We aren't done here. Stand up, Draco."

He nodded numbly, his movements jerky as his rose to his feet, bringing his attention back to the battle in front of him.

Laughter came from the other side of the space, and Draco could see through teary eyes as people he had grown up respecting — his friends' parents, people he had celebrated holidays with — joked about the idea of the Order still standing strong.

Their chatter was cut off as chaos erupted around them. Thundering footsteps shook the ground, charging at the castle from the out-of-sight gates. Arrows shot up over the walls, landing amongst the Death Eaters and taking some of them down.

Movement just in front of Draco pulled his attention away from the incoming arrows, a flash of silver glinting against the light of wands. Neville's arms, raised high above his head, came down with a sudden force, slicing easily through the large snake Voldemort kept by his side.

"HARRY!" someone shouted at the same time, and Draco's eyes moved back and forth between where the decapitated snake lay and the empty spot where Harry's body had once been.

Everything was happening too quickly for him to keep up, but he pulled out his wand anyway, slashing it through the air at the dark-cloaked figures that approached. Spells exploded around them, forcing many people back into the Great Hall as the opposing group drew closer. Hermione took Draco's hand and dragged him back into the hall, their feet moving quickly, his mother's body disappearing from sight.

The Order, Dumbledore's Army, and anyone else who stood on the side of the Light formed small groups in the large room, standing back to back as they took on their opponents. Draco was thankful for all the time he and Hermione had spent working on duelling in fifth year, as he knew none of his teachers had adequately prepared him for this.

Sweat beaded on his brow as his wrist flicked his wand, sending a Death Eater flying into one of the walls. More curses, stronger shields, faster movements. They kept the dark cloaked figures at bay, bringing them to their knees.

Someone screamed, another gasped.

"Harry!"

"Harry?"

"Did you see Harry?"

"He's alive!"

Spells ceased and every person in the room stopped moving, their attention drawn to the centre where Harry stood, looking perfectly alive, facing off against Voldemort.

"Who are you using as your shield this time, Potter?" taunted Voldemort.

Harry stood his ground, his wand arm steadily pointed ahead of him. "No one. This ends tonight, Tom. There are no more Horcruxes. Neither can live while the other survives. And one of us is about to leave for good…"

Draco watched as the two wizards faced off against each other. With one hand gripping Hermione's for mutual support, he kept the other wrapped around his wand. It was strange watching someone else use his Hawthorn wand, but the new one he gripped in his hand — he wasn't even sure what this one was made of — felt sturdy, like it had chosen him.

"I know lots of important things you don't," said Harry. "Want to know some before you make another mistake?"

Voldemort looked like a hunter stalking its prey, though Draco knew better. There was a fierceness in Harry's eyes that Draco knew wouldn't be extinguished with some basic taunting and fear mechanisms.

Harry was the hunter and Voldemort had no idea.

"Is it love again? _Love_ which did not prevent me from stomping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach. No one seems to love you enough to step forward and take the curse for you this time, Potter."

There was a low growl from beside him, and Draco looked down to see anger flash through Hermione's eyes.

"Wait," he cautioned her. "Harry can handle this…"

The silent "I hope" hung in the air between them, and he knew Hermione understood as well. She looked up at him, breathing deeply, and nodded her head.

He turned back to the hunter and prey in front of him.

Voldemort's icy voice raised an octave, panic setting in as his opponent continued to press. "I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore! Dumbledore is dead!"

"He is," Harry replied calmly. "But you didn't bring about his end, he did. He accepted his fate long before he died. The whole thing was arranged with your own humble servant, and you had no idea."

"What is this childish nonsense?"

"Severus Snape wasn't yours, he was Dumbledore's. Had been since the day you had my mother hunted down. He loved her and when you refused to spare her life, he lied to you and made you trust him. He became Dumbledore's spy. Dumbledore was already dying, Tom! You didn't defeat him!"

The room was silent except for the quiet rustle of Voldemort's robes hitting the ground. They continued to pace in a slow circle, ignoring the gathering of spectators around them.

"It matters not, Potter! I crushed them both, just like I crushed your mother." Voldemort let out a chill-inducing laugh. "Dumbledore wanted Snape to be the master of the Elder Wand, but I defeated Snape and the wand is mine!"

"You don't understand, do you?" the young wizard said, his voice even. "You may have defeated Snape, but the wand was never his to master. Before Dumbledore died, before he was able to take the wand to his grave and extinguish the power it carried, the wand had a new master. One that never even touched the wand. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realising exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance..."

For the first time since Draco had known the Dark Lord, he saw uncertainty in the man's gaze. His eyes flickered, briefly looking around the room. Long knobby fingers continued to grip the Elder Wand tightly, as the snake-like man remained unwilling to listen to what was being said.

But the rest of the room was. People leaned forward, not wanting to miss a word of what Harry said. Had there been any doubt about Harry before, it was gone now. Nearly every person in the Great Hall would back him entirely should it come to that.

"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

Draco's heart stopped. The Elder Wand had been his and he hadn't even known it. It wasn't as if he had been in his right mind to do anything with the information, but the fact remained — he had once been the owner of the most powerful wand in the world.

"What does it matter?" Voldemort's voice was softer now, fear and mortality creeping in at the edges. "Even if you are right, you no longer have the phoenix wand. We stand as equals. And when all this is over, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…"

Air caught in Draco's throat. He gripped Hermione's hand tighter as his body vibrated with fear. A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he was only vaguely aware of Arthur Weasley standing behind him.

"He'll have to go through all of us," the older man whispered. "I know you're not your father."

Harry spoke, his voice barely a whisper, "So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?"

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

Red and green jets of light met in the middle of the tight circle and a cannon-like eruption echoed through the room. Golden flames burst between them just as the first rays of morning sun broke through the windows of the Great Hall, creating a halo of light around the final stand off.

Finally, the flames ceased and Draco was able to see a small piece of wood fly through the air, landing in Harry's outstretched hand.

The room was silent.

Then Voldemort fell.

And it was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annd we're out of 7th year and the war! Thanks for sticking with me through all the angst and heartache; you're all amazing. I know there are still questions and I promise they will get answered. 
> 
> There will be one more flashback in a few weeks to tie off a few of the loose ends, but we're primarily in the present day now (and nearing the end AHH!)


	20. Chapter 20

**January 2008**

Hermione stepped out onto the rug in the sitting room and dusted the soot off her Muggle clothing.

"Mummy!"

She looked up to see a curly-haired blond boy running towards her, his arms outstretched. Crouching down to his level, she caught him and lifted him with one arm, settling him on her hip. She peppered kisses along his neck, relishing in his bright laughter.

"Oh, I missed you, my little love. How was your weekend with Daddy?"

Scorpius giggled again. "Good. We played in the snow. Daddy got all wet."

"He did? Did you have cocoa when you came in?" she asked, her eyes wide as she listened to his story.

"Yes! And Daddy put in extra marshey-mellows in mine."

Hermione laughed, looking up just in time to see Draco walk into the living room with an apron tied around his waist. Pressing her lips together, she suppressed another giggle, not wanting to offend him.

"You're home," he said breathlessly, walking towards her and pulling her into a tight hug. He placed a soft kiss to her cheek and she could smell slightly burnt biscuits on his clothing. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Mummy!" Scorpius protested, trying to push his dad away. His little lip popped out in a pout. "She my mummy."

Draco laughed, ruffling his son's hair. "Yes, she is your mummy. How about you both come to the kitchen and we can show her all of the baking you did today?"

Giving him a worried look, Hermione followed her husband into the kitchen, spotting flour on nearly every surface and more trays of dark circles than she could count. She placed Scorpius in his high chair and went to pick up one of the biscuits. They felt more like the rock cakes Hagrid used to make for them in school.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Draco pulled her in for another hug, his lips meeting hers briefly.

"How was your trip?" he asked, plucking one of the least burnt biscuits and placing it on a plate. "Any luck?"

She sighed. "No. Nothing in Prague, though I went to this bookshop that claims J.K. Rowling wrote part of the series there."

"And? Do they know who she really is? Or where she is now?"

Hermione shook her head, taking a tentative bite and immediately deciding that was a bad idea. "Early 2000s was the last time she was there and she never mentioned anything to anyone about where she lives or spends her time. No one is even sure what her real name really is."

"So another dead end?" he asked. "What about Skeeter?"

"No leads there either. I've reached out to everyone I can think of and no one knows where she's gone. It's been six months since the last book came out and both she and Rowling are missing. There's no way that's just a coincidence."

Draco tucked a loose curl behind her ear and dropped a kiss to her nose. "We'll find them, love. I know it."

* * *

**April 2008**

"Another Potter baby?" Draco asked, his eyebrows raised high.

"Oh, Ginny!" Hermione jumped from her seat and rushed around to pull her friend into a hug. "Are you waiting to find out if it's a boy or a girl?

"Actually," the red-headed witch blushed. "The healers told us yesterday. We're having a little boy."

Draco smirked at Harry and lifted his tumbler of firewhisky to cheers the other man, the ice clinking against the sides of their glasses. "Congratulations, truly. Between our two families, we've almost got a full Quidditch team."

Smacking him as she passed, Hermione settled back in her seat. "Ignore him. He's just sour his recreation team lost their game this morning. Scorpius and I were both very pleased with how well you played, though. Weren't we, Scorp?"

The toddler clapped his hands, mashing bits of peas between his tiny fingers. "Daddy the best Seeker!"

Grinning at his son, Draco puffed out his chest. He didn't care if it was just a recreation league and his biggest fan was a two-year-old, he loved when his family came to his games. They were always dressed in his team colours, and Hermione had created matching shirts for her and Scorpius to wear with his name and number on the back.

On more than one occasion he had asked her to keep the jersey on when they shagged.

Interrupting his thoughts, Hermione asked James and Lily, who were seated on either side of their parents, "Are you excited to have a new baby brother?"

Lily's eyebrows pulled together and her tiny arms crossed in front of her chest. "No! No baby!"

"We're working on that," Ginny said with a nervous laugh. "In hindsight, three kids in four years was probably not our best decision, but I'm excited nonetheless."

Draco asked, "Have you thought of any names yet?"

"We have a few ideas but with the baby not due for another five months, we're going to let it sit for a bit," Ginny replied.

"You know," he smirked. "I hear Albus Severus is a great name. Very popular lately."

Ginny blinked at him, unamused. "Our children are around so I'll refrain from Bat Bogey Hexing you, but please know I intend to get you back for that comment."

Letting out a loud shriek of laughter, James wiggled in his seat. "Do it, Mummy! I want to see bats come out of Uncle Draco's nose."

"Not at the dinner table," she replied. "But maybe later, if you're good."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "So James behaves and I get punished for it?"

"Yes. That's exactly right."

"Alright, fine," he sighed. "Has it ever been explained why the epilogue showed you with three children and they weren't even in the right order?"

Spearing a piece of chicken with his fork, Harry shook his head. "Not sure. There was a lot about Snape and Dumbledore being these heroes, though I'm not sure why. One was obsessed with my mother, and the other one tried to—" He paused and looked at the three children listening intently. "The other one wasn't very forthcoming. Not exactly my idea of brave men I'd want to name my son after."

"Just another thing to add to my list of questions for J.K. Rowling and Rita," Hermione grumbled.

"Still on that?" Ginny asked, cutting a vegetable up for Lily.

Draco squeezed Hermione's leg under the table, his thumb brushing over her knee. He knew how hard this whole thing had been on her; it was one of the few puzzles she hadn't able to solve quickly.

"Every lead turns up as a dead-end. I feel like I've been all over Europe and the most I've come across is a few coffee shops and a bookshop that Rowling apparently wrote in."

"It's alright, love," he said, leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek. "With the books out, there isn't much we _can_ do."

Hermione mumbled something under her breath. Inhaling deeply, she spoke up, "If we can find Rita, maybe we can get the _Daily Prophet_ to stop harassing us for statements. I'd like to be able to take Scorpius to Fortescue's one day without someone stopping me to ask about what _really_ happened at Malfoy Manor. It's worse than right after the war."

"Tell me about it," Ginny added. "Someone on the Harpies asked me a few weeks ago if I was hiding a second boy named Albus somewhere at home."

Harry snorted. "There's barely two years between James and Lily. How on earth would we have had a child between them?"

"Your super swimmers mixed with my Weasley fertility, it's not entirely impossible," she said, tossing a smirk at Draco who looked like he was ready to vomit.

"On second thought, we probably could have if you didn't fill the cupboard under the stairs with all your Quidditch supplies," Harry added, his face unchanging.

Hermione gasped. "Harry!"

"What? Speaking from personal experience, there's room for at least two more kids in there." He paused thoughtfully. "Maybe three if we bend one sideways."

Draco let out a loud laugh, choking on his sip of firewhisky. "I'm glad that after nearly two decades you're finally able to make a joke out of it all."

Shrugging, Harry said, "It's a lot easier to joke when I know that baby number three was conceived in there." At Hermione's second gasp he grinned. "I'm kidding! He was conceived in the—"

"STOP! I don't care. I don't want to know!"

* * *

**May 2008**

"Why are they doing this here, of all places?" Hermione groaned. "Wasn't the Ministry good enough?"

Draco's hand dipped lower, his thumb brushing against the bare skin exposed by her low-back dress. "It's symbolic or something. Ten years after Voldemort's downfall, we're here to celebrate, remember, and honour the fallen."

She looked up at him, her eyebrows pulled together. "Where did all that come from?"

He lifted the programme for the evening and showed her the text written on the cover. "Tonight's theme, I suppose. Ten years is a big deal."

Lifting on her toes to press her lips to his, Hermione murmured, "Ten years since I got you back."

"And I'm never leaving again."

"Good."

Minister Shacklebolt stood on the raised platform where the Head table normally sat, his voice enhanced with the Sonorus Charm. "Welcome, welcome. If you could please take your seats."

Draco led Hermione over to their table at the front where they were seated with Harry and Ginny, Neville and Hannah, and Luna and Rolf Scamander — a man Draco had expressed as being perfectly suited to Luna and her free spirit.

"I'd like to start by thanking everyone for coming tonight to the tenth anniversary of the final battle. Tonight we're here to celebrate our victories, remember the fallen, and honour each and every person who fought throughout both wars. Many of us lost brothers or sisters, parents, children, friends, but we are here together tonight, stronger than we were before." Kingsley paused, allowing the guests a moment to think of their lost loved ones.

"While we wait for our dinners to be served, I'd like to welcome one of our guests for the evening to say a few words. During her years at Hogwarts, she embodied the traits of Gryffindor house; bravery, courage, and determination. When our education system was failing her and her classmates, she rose alongside her peers to ensure that they were properly prepared should a war arise. She showed us that being knowledgeable can be lifesaving, and that there are times when it is better to be prepared before running headfirst into the fire. She has continued to push the wizarding world to change its laws and to embrace the new world, something I know we're all very thankful for. It is my deepest honour to introduce you to Hermione Malfoy."

Everyone stood and clapped, cheering for Hermione as she took to the stage. Draco gave her a quick peck on the cheek and squeezed her hand.

"Thank you, Minister Shacklebolt," she said, giving him a brief hug. "And thank you everyone for coming tonight. It's hard to believe that ten years has passed already. It feels as if it were only yesterday that many of us stood in this very room as the sun rose on a new day, a new era. Over the past decade, I've watched as the wizarding world changed its views to be more accommodating, more welcoming, more forgiving. The students here at Hogwarts have all but put house rivalry behind them, except for Quidditch games, or at least that's what I've been told."

Hermione paused as the audience laughed lightly and she watched as Harry and Draco smirked at each other.

"I'm proud of our community and how much growth I've seen happen over the past four years alone. When I started the Narcissa Black Foundation, I wasn't sure how challenging it was going to be to have laws repealed, but there was support given each step of the way. Because of this, we've been able to repeal all of the laws that prevented werewolves from having proper, well-paying jobs with benefits, and have given house-elves the right to leave abusive homes. There is so much more work for us to do, but I am incredibly proud of how far we've come in such a short amount of time."

She took a sip of her water and inhaled deeply before continuing on. While rehearsing the speech in front of Draco over the past week, her nerves had kicked in and she had begun speaking a mile a minute and she didn't want that to happen now.

"For many of you, this is the first time you've been back to Hogwarts since you graduated, and I urge you to look around and see how much has changed. We must never forget what separation and prejudice can do to our society, especially when we are raising our kids with that mindset. I'm incredibly thankful for Headmistress McGonagall and her initiatives to remove the house rivalry."

Hermione paused again as George and Fred Weasley stood up and cheered for her. "We love you, Minnie!" they called out in unison, much to the rest of the guests' amusement. McGonagall scowled at the pair of them, but the corners of her mouth twitched up into a small smile.

"I am confident that when my son finally boards the Hogwarts Express, he will be going to a school that will teach him not only how to use his magic, but also how to be a better, more accepting person. I'd like to make a toast to each and every person who had a hand in Voldemort's defeat, as well as those who have helped shape this new and better future. Cheers!"

The room filled with the sound of glasses clinking against each other and more cheers and clapping as Hermione descended the steps back to her table. Draco embraced her quickly, his arms wrapping around her waist and placing a soft kiss to her lips.

"You were wonderful," he murmured, dropping another peck before stepping back.

As she was taking her seat, Kingsley announced that their meals were being served, and after that a dance was to follow.

During the dinner portion, Hermione chatted with Luna and Rolf, listening intently to their latest travels and findings. They had visited the Faroe Islands recently and Luna swore that the native elves — which hadn't been seen by humans in centuries — had made an appearance for her. Hermione kicked Draco under the table when she heard him grumbling about how no such thing as huldufólk could possibly exist.

When the plates were cleared and music floated through the room, Draco took Hermione's hand and led her onto the dancefloor.

"One dance," she said sternly. "Then we go to see Ron, and then home to Scorpius."

"One dance," he agreed, pulling her in close and leading her through the steps.

A low whistle echoed through the hall as Draco and Hermione made their way over to where Ron was. The long corridor was mostly empty, though there were a few people who were standing around talking to a few of the portraits.

Ron's was hung at the very end, his portrait slightly bigger than the others. He was dressed in a knit sweater and stood in front of the Quidditch pitch on a beautiful sunny day. The light caught his eyes and made them shimmer like gemstones, his cheeks dimpling with his wide smile.

"Well don't you clean up nice," he said as they approached him. "You're making me regret wearing my weekend sweater instead of my weekday one."

"Isn't that the same sweater?" Draco asked, lifting an eyebrow at the man.

Ron shrugged. "Don't ruin my fun, Malfoy. I've been in this same sweater since I was eighteen — and yes, I know I'm still eighteen. Merlin, I wish my mother hadn't picked maroon. She knows how much I hate this colour."

"I think it brings out your eyes," Hermione said, smiling. "How have you been?"

"It's always busy this time of year. Family members coming up to see their loved ones on weekends and students are preparing for their exams so naturally they're here all the time looking for a distraction or the answers to one of Binns' tests," he laughed. "I told them they were asking the wrong person. Now, chess games are a different story."

Summoning one of the benches, Draco and Hermione took a seat in front of him. It was the first time since Scorpius had been born that they were able to visit at the same time.

"Hard to believe it's been ten years already," Hermione said, her voice low. "Doesn't feel like it some days."

Draco squeezed her hand reassuringly. He had known how hard today was going to be on her, and that was before Kingsley had pressured her into giving a speech. That was part of the deal for being a war heroine apparently — speeches and remembrance balls.

"Honestly, time feels different for me," Ron said. "I suppose that's a good thing though, otherwise the next six hundred years, or more, would feel awfully long. Any chance you plan on sticking around that long? I hear Flamel was able to do it and he was only slightly wrinkly by the end of it."

"Can you...retire? Like if in five hundred years you decide enough is enough, can you come down?" Draco asked. He had never really thought about what it would be like to be a portrait. He knew that they had all the thoughts and feelings of the person that was captured, but no one ever talked about what it was truly like.

Ron gave Draco a pitying look. "You know that I'm not _really_ living as a portrait, right? Not to get all deep on you, Malfoy, but my soul is off in whatever comes next. We're not like ghosts, stuck here for the rest of time and miserable. I know I joke about it a lot, but I actually like being a portrait."

"You do?" asked Hermione. "I mean, you spend all of your time surrounded by others, talking to people. You're alright with that?"

"I grew up at the Burrow," he said deadpan. "This is much quieter."

Draco snorted gracefully. "Have you been to visit lately? There are grandchildren coming out of the cupboards now."

"Oh Merlin, did Fred and Angelina have another? What are they up to now, four? And George and Katie have three, plus Harry's two, almost three… Charlie still doesn't have any right?"

"Not yet," Hermione replied. "Lots of dragons, though. He's tried to convince your mum to let him bring one of his babies home for Christmas but she's not having it."

Ron's eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled. "I can't wait to see that. I'll be happy when this school year is over and I can come home for longer than a few minutes. What's the point in having two frames if you hardly use one of them?"

"Just make sure you warn your mum next time," Hermione scolded him. "She nearly threw a fit when you popped in unannounced last year. That's why McGonagall writes to us for you, so that you _don't_ have to give your mother a heart attack."

"Are we talking about when Mum nearly set your frame on fire because you showed up one morning before she'd had her tea?" Ginny interrupted, laughing. She and Harry were nearly to Ron's portrait and had summoned their own bench to sit on. "Hello, my dear brother. Love the sweater. Is it new?"

Ron flipped her two fingers, scowling. "I see you're practically at a full Quidditch team now."

"That's what I said!" Draco interjected, excited. "What's four more when you already have three?"

"Or," Ginny said. "Or you and Hermione could have a few more and we can share the team."

Hermione groaned, her head falling to her hands. "Of all the people I could have met while in school, why is it that I had to befriend the three Quidditch obsessed people in our year, one of whom married someone else Quidditch obsessed? Couldn't one of you have loved something a little safer?"

"Really? It's the Quidditch part you're questioning? Not the fact that you were almost killed on multiple occasions?" Draco asked, lifting an eyebrow incredulously.

"Or worse, _expelled_ ," Ron added, doubled over laughing. "I still can't believe that at age twelve you assumed expulsion was worse than death."

"Honestly I'm surprised you even managed to graduate," Draco chuckled. His wife smacked him lightly, causing him to laugh again. "Okay, maybe not _you_ , love, but definitely Harry."

Harry scoffed. "I had an evil wizard living in my head, sorry I wasn't a top student."

"I don't mean grades, although that's a whole other conversation. I meant that you almost got expelled prior to third year. I'm still upset I had to learn about your aunt from reading those books," Draco grumbled.

"I'm not even sure how that story ended up in the books as it was. I didn't tell anyone but Hermione and Ron."

"What story?" Ron asked.

"The one about Aunt Marge blowing up like a balloon and floating across London like a parade float," Ginny replied, grinning.

Hermione's brow pulled together. "I suppose the Ministry would have logged that incident, which makes me think Rowling works for the Ministry. Although, not everything that happened at your aunt and uncle's house would have been recorded, so that still doesn't make sense."

"Oh no," Ron said suddenly. "I — uh… well I think maybe that might be my fault."

Everyone's attention snapped to the portrait, waiting expectantly for him to explain what he meant. Draco motioned for Ron to continue.

"Well, it wasn't long after I woke up and people from all over were coming to talk to me and ask about what it was like being one of the war heroes. This one day, right before term started, a young woman, a blonde, came to visit. She, well she—"

"She flirted with you," Draco interrupted.

"Yeah," Ron replied, his hand reaching to rub the back of his neck. "Anyway, she spent the whole afternoon telling me about how brave I was to sacrifice myself for the wizarding world. She wanted to know about each of us so I told her. She was really interested in knowing about Harry specifically, but that wasn't unusual."

"What made you tell her the story about Aunt Marge?" Harry asked.

Ron sighed. "She knew about some of your offences with the Ministry and was asking about them. I think I was so caught up in the attention that I must have told her. I honestly didn't think much of it. That's the whole point of this 'Hall of Heroes' isn't it? To tell the stories so they aren't forgotten."

Hermione stood up, her heels clicking against the stone floor as she paced behind the bench. "Did she have a name? What did she look like? How old was she?"

"Merlin, 'Mione, I don't know. She was blonde. She looked like she was maybe twenty."

"Too old to be Rowling, unless she aged drastically in four years. When I met her in 2002 she was in her late-thirties, I'd wager. Maybe this was a relative?"

"She could have been," Ron said uneasily. "I haven't seen a photo of Rowling so I can't be sure."

The tapping sound of her heels filled the silence. Her lips were pressed together and Draco could see the gears in her mind turning.

"She didn't use magic," Hermione continued. "I would have been able to tell, and I'm almost positive it would have alerted the Ministry. Using magic around that many Muggles would have had the Aurors in a frenzy. But if she looked to be twenty, surely Bill or Charlie would have gone to school with her and Bill wasn't able to help me when I asked him about it years ago. Charlie, though… I hadn't thought of talking to Charlie. I could make a trip to Romania next week and speak to him and—"

Draco stood and took his wife's hands, stopping her pacing. "Hermione, look at me," he whispered. Her brown eyes met his, softening instantly. "It's alright. We're going to find them. This is just one more clue to add to the puzzle that I _know_ you can solve."

Dropping a quick kiss to her nose, he pressed his forehead to hers. "Want to go home and see Scorpius?"

Nodding her head, she pecked him quickly. "Let's go."

They stepped apart and turned back to their friends. "It was great to see you all," Hermione said. "Especially you, Ron."

Draco opened the door for Hermione to step through and noticed Lavender walking down the corridor towards them. She was wearing a purple strapless dress, and her hair was pulled back, showing off the scars that Greyback had given her. For the first few years, she had kept them glamoured or covered in some form. Knowing what it was like to cover his Dark Mark every time he left the house, he understood why she might reach the point of not caring about what others thought. It was a lot to keep up appearances.

"Hi Lavender," Hermione said, pulling her into a hug. "How are you?"

"I'm alright. The anniversary is always so hard, especially this one," she responded. "How is he?" She nodded her head in the direction of Ron's portrait.

"Same Ron we knew and loved. Ginny and Harry are in there now but I'm sure they'll be happy to see you as well."

Lavender smiled and nodded before making her way through the open door.

With her hand looped around his elbow, Draco led Hermione back to the Great Hall to say goodbye to a few people before Flooing home. He could tell his wife was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and it pained him to see her this way again. This need to find Rowling and Skeeter was draining her with every dead end.

He hoped the new information Ron had provided would be what she needed to solve the mystery.

* * *

**September 2008**

Ginny sat propped up on pillows, a small blue bundle in her arms.

"He's beautiful, Gin," Hermione whispered, sitting next to her friend. "Does he have a name yet?"

"Ronald Arthur. We hadn't used any names from my family, and I wanted this little one to have a strong legacy like his siblings. Want to hold him?"

"Only if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Ginny said, passing the baby over. "My arms are stiff from holding babies for the past four years. I told Harry, this is it. No more."

Hermione laughed quietly, trying not to disturb little Ronald. Like his namesake, he had a head full of red hair, though it was a darker shade. His eyes were green like Harry's, but he had Ginny's nose.

"I forgot how tiny newborns are. Scorpius was never this small, right?"

"Merlin, no. His head was much bigger."

Nudging her gently, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if Scorpius should have a sibling, but then I selfishly think of all the things I want to accomplish still and I know how hard that would be if I had to take more time off. Is that horrible?"

"Not at all. Besides, he's not growing up alone. He has James and Lily and Ronald, plus all of their cousins. There's no shame in not wanting more, Hermione. Scorpius isn't going to grow up any better or worse for not having biological cousins."

"I guess," she resigned. "I know I always wanted siblings growing up, but I never had any cousins to play with. Scorpius definitely won't have that problem."

Ginny rested her head on Hermione's shoulder. "Stay like this for a bit, please? I just want to nap for a moment before Harry comes back with James and Lily." The redhead let out a loud yawn and closed her eyes.

Hermione held Ronald, watching him sleep, his eyes flickering open momentarily before closing once more. She let Ginny's words sink in and absorb. Did she want another baby? Sure, Scorpius would never be lonely, but he wouldn't have that connection with anyone else the way James, Lily, and Ronald would have with each other. And if, heaven forbid, anything were to ever happen to her and Draco, she wanted her son to have someone to lean on.

She thought of the pain and loneliness she felt when she _Obliviated_ her parents and there was no one there to grieve with. There had been moments when she craved a sibling to relate to, to share in her anger and frustration, coming up short when Harry and Draco just couldn't understand.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Harry peered in, holding a quiet Lily. Draco was behind him, Scorpius tucked against his hip while James stood and held his hand.

"Hi," Harry whispered. "How is she?" He tilted his head towards his sleeping wife.

"Tired. You know how visits from Molly and Arthur are when a new baby is born. They love their grandchildren more than anything in the world."

Ginny stirred, rolling over and blinking slowly to wake up. "Hi."

"Hello, love. The kids wanted to meet their new brother."

"Of course, come here," she said, motioning James forward. He let go of Draco's hand and ran around the bed, letting his mum lift him onto her lap.

Harry walked over to the bed, setting Lily on the mattress at their feet. "Lily, James, this is your new brother, Ronald."

"Like Uncle Ronald?" James asked.

"Just like Uncle Ronald."

Lily reached forward, her mouth pulled down in a frown. "He comes home with us?" She looked up to her father, eyes wide.

"Yes, he's coming home with us," Ginny laughed. "He's going to sleep in the room right across from yours, how does that sound?"

The little girl sighed dramatically. "Okay. No more baby though."

"Even Lily agrees with me," Ginny said smirking at her husband.

Slipping off the bed, Hermione let Harry take her place. She stepped over to greet her husband and son, her heart fluttering at their presence. Scorpius stuck his hands out, reaching for his mum. Taking the toddler into her arms, she felt him nestle against her right away.

"We should let them be as a family right now. Besides, I think I want to spend some time with my favourite boys," Hermione said, pressing up to kiss her husband.

"Book?" Scorpius asked, perking up.

"Yes, we can read a book."

Waving goodbye to the Potters, they made their way home and settled in on one of the bigger sofas with Scorpius snuggled in the middle. He had picked out his favourite book, _The Little Dragon that Could_ , and handed it to Hermione to read. Within a few pages, he was curled up against Draco, fast asleep.

"Good thing it was his nap time," Hermione sighed. She shifted so she was looking at Draco. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

He eyed her carefully. "What is it?"

"I know I've been preoccupied a lot lately, what with work and trying to find Rowling and Skeeter, and I know that I may have neglected our family a bit—"

"You haven't neglected us, love," Draco interrupted. "I know how important it is to you that you get these answers. It's important to all of us."

"I appreciate that, but I still want to apologise for being away so much. I was actually thinking we should go away for a weekend. Maybe take Scorpius somewhere warm so he can play in the water."

Draco smiled, reaching over to take her hand. "I stand by what I said, you don't need to apologise, _but_ I think a little vacation would be great for all of us."

She leaned over Scorpius, careful not to wake him, and kissed Draco. "I was also thinking," she whispered, her voice dropping lower. "That Scorpius might want a sibling one day."

"Really?" he asked, leaning back slightly, his eyes wide. "But, the foundation, and this Rowling thing. Are you sure?"

Pressing her lips together to suppress the bubbling excitement, she nodded. "I'm not saying we start trying now, but soon, yes, definitely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only four more chapters to go! I am currently on vacation right now and will be for the next few weeks, so there won't be an update next week. Chapter 21 will post on August 26 :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the patience with this chapter! The good news is, no more delays, as the rest of the fic is completely written! Yay! The plan is to post twice a week, so the fic should wrap up on Sunday, September 27th :)

**February 2009**

"You're sure? You're absolutely positive?"

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy, I'm positive. A woman with the last name Rowling checked out this morning but she didn't say where she was going."

"Alright, thank you, sir."

Hermione walked away from the reception desk and took the lift back to her room. The door clicked open and Draco sat on the sofa, making toy Quidditch figurines float around the room, entertaining Scorpius.

"It was definitely her that I saw leaving the hotel, same last name but a different first name," she explained.

"So another dead end?" he asked, letting the toys come to rest on the floor in front of their son.

Nodding, she went to the attached bedroom and sat on the bed, her head falling to her hands. Draco followed, taking a seat next to her on the mattress.

Frustration bubbled in her chest and she tried to suppress it, not wanting to have an outburst with their son in the next room. "I don't know how much more of this I can take. It's been two years since anyone has seen Skeeter, and Rowling feels more like one of those creatures Luna and Rolf chase than a real person."

"Hermione, it's okay if you don't find them."

"It's not, though," she said, her voice cracking. "We can't go out in the wizarding world anymore without people asking us questions, and when we venture into the Muggle world, there's _Harry Potter_ things everywhere. Scorpius is going to start wondering why 'Draco Malfoy' is associated with darkness when he's been told all of these stories about his daddy being good and light. How do I explain that to him?"

Draco placed his hand on the small of her back, rubbing soothing circles into her skin. "Scorpius will ask questions and we'll tell him the truth. Those Muggle books are just stories, fiction. They aren't real."

Tears fell as her emotions took over. "They _are_ real, though. So much of it is real. Even if some of the details are wrong, the events actually occurred. I just wish Rowling would have made it all fiction if she felt that she _had_ to tell our story."

"It's alright—"

"It's not!" she cried. Lifting her head to look at him, she could see how hurt he was by her outburst, but emotions flowed through her freely. "It's not, because it's another thing I can't fix! I couldn't get my parents' memories back, I couldn't save Ron or your mother. I couldn't save you from Lucius—"

"I wasn't yours to save—"

"But I stood by and watched it happen! I saw the bruises and scars and heard the nightmares and I didn't do anything! I couldn't stop any of it." Hermione stood with her fists pressed to her eyes, tears running down her cheeks. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I can fix this. I can — I can do something. Research. Something productive. I can't sit back and do nothing again."

Draco stood, wrapping his arms around her and crushing her to his chest. "You haven't done 'nothing'. You've been travelling to places that she's been, you've been reading all of the articles written about her, and you're looking out for Skeeter, too. And that doesn't even include all of the work you've been doing with the Foundation. Hermione, it is not your job to save the world."

Feeling drained from her outburst, she sank into him, her arms snaking around his waist. "I'm sorry. I just want to see _something_ happen for her leaking our secrets. Some kind of consequence."

"Stop apologising," he soothed. "I want to see her brought to justice, too. If we can find out who she is, the Ministry might be able to charge her for breaking the Statute of Secrecy, even if the Muggles don't realise it."

She nodded into his chest. Her tears had all but stopped, leaving wet streaks on her cheeks. She let his warm embrace ground her as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heart against her ear and matched her breathing with each beat.

"Mummy?"

Wiping her face quickly, Hermione stepped back from Draco and turned to crouch in front of Scorpius, who was standing in the open doorway.

"Mummy, are you okay?" he asked again, his eyes wide. He stuck his hand out, a little Quidditch figurine in his fist. "Aunt Ginny will help."

Choking out a laugh, she held her palm open for him to deposit the toy version of her best friend. The miniature Ginny stood, shoulders back, in her Harpies uniform, a broom in hand. She gave a thumbs-up to Hermione before mounting her broom and flying in small loops over her palm.

"See, Mummy? Aunt Ginny helps."

"You're absolutely right, Scorp. Aunt Ginny did help," she replied, holding open her other arm to pull him in for a hug. Placing a loud kiss to his cheek, she relished in the giggle that erupted from deep in his belly, his tiny body squirming to escape her hold.

"Yuck! No kisses!" He dragged his hand down his cheek. "Daddy, come play with me?"

"Alright, why don't you go get the game ready and I'll be out in just a moment?" Draco suggested.

Scorpius nodded his head furiously, the short blond curls bouncing. "Okay!" He took the Ginny figurine and ran back to the other room.

Pulling her to her feet, he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Let's put Rowling and Skeeter behind us, just for the rest of the weekend. As soon as we're home, we can go talk to Kingsley together, make sure he's completely aware of everything and what information you've been able to gather. I don't imagine he's immune to it all, but I highly doubt he knows as much as you do."

She hummed in agreement, bringing her hands to her stomach where a small bump was forming. "And when we're done, we'll go to St. Mungo's and find out the gender? Or do you want to wait?"

"Let's wait," he said, his hands drifting down to her belly. "We found out with Scorpius and I think I'd like this one to be a surprise. If that's alright with you?"

"Of course it's alright. They're going to be so loved regardless."

A loud huff came from the next room. "Daddy!"

Draco laughed and then sighed. "That's my cue. We're going to have to watch that, or else he'll be calling me all through school to complain."

"If there was ever any doubt that he's your son, I think there's our proof that he is, indeed, a Malfoy."

* * *

**April 2009**

"Hermione, Draco, welcome. I hear congratulations are in order," Kingsley said, shaking each of their hands and gesturing to Hermione's swollen belly.

He led them over to his desk, gesturing to the two seats across from his. As they sat, he summoned three glasses and filled them with water, sliding one across for each of them.

"Thank you, Kings," Hermione said, taking a sip of her drink. "We were hoping to keep it quiet a bit longer, but you know how the papers are when they get a hold of something. At least this time their big pregnancy announcement was actually correct."

"Oh yes, Merlin knows they love to print whatever will sell, even if it's not one hundred percent true." He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to be able to meet with you. With the Wizangamot elections coming up, we've been very busy."

"I noticed," Draco mumbled, annoyed. Hermione's foot collided with his ankle and she shot him a disapproving look.

Turning back to the Minister, she continued, "The newspapers are actually why we're here. I'm sure you've heard of the latest Muggle book series? The _Harry Potter_ ones. They've been in the Muggle world for over a decade, but they never reached our shelves until two years ago, conveniently right after Rita Skeeter quit her job at the _Daily Prophet_." She levelled her gaze. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Minister?"

Kingsley sat up straight, a quick look of shock flashing over his features before he composed himself. "Of course I've heard of them. What _exactly_ are you insinuating, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Draco sighed at the switch in Kingsley's mannerisms. Hermione was going to eat him alive.

She leaned forward, steepling her fingers on the solid wood desk. "I'm not insinuating anything. Rather, I'm pointing out that the Ministry allowed Rita to publish completely fictional information for years — targeting children, I might add — and your staff allowed it to happen. Rita is an unregistered Animagus who is using this to her advantage."

"And you think she's behind this series?"

"I think it's awfully convenient that she disappears off the face of the earth the day before the final book is released."

"Even if I knew where she was, and I don't, what do you expect me to do?" the older man asked, resigned.

"She broke the Statute of Secrecy! She—"

Draco placed his hand on Hermione's knee. He could see sparks of magic shimmer at the ends of her hair, and he knew that if Kingsley wasn't careful, he would be on the receiving end of her pregnancy-induced accidental magic.

Her eyes flickered down to her lap and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The shimmering faded until all traces of magic around her had ceased.

"Kingsley," she said, her voice calm and level once more. "We all live by the same set of rules — don't let the Muggles find out that magic is real. Why is Rita getting a free pass at telling the entire world about us? Why aren't you outraged?"

Thinking for a moment, Kingsley finally asked, "Do you have proof that Rita is the author of those books?"

"Well, not exactly but—"

"Do you know where she is?"

"No, but she's been spotted—"

"Then I'll ask again. What do you expect me to do? Send a full team of Aurors to one of these possible locations where she _may_ have been spotted? Hermione, you know as well as I do that I can't pull those kinds of strings. Bring me proof that Rita is in fact J.K. Rowling _and_ her location, and I promise I'll take care of it." He stood from his desk, effectively ending the meeting. "Until that happens, I suggest you take comfort in the fact that I'm not looking too closely at some of the things those books said about _you_. Even if you were a minor, you still kept a human being in a jar."

Hermione stood up, huffing. She grabbed her things and marched over to the door. "I'm not done with this, Kingsley. My family and I aren't able to leave our house without being accosted by nosey people and I won't rest until someone is held accountable."

Still standing by the desk, Draco watched as his wife left. He sighed and reached out to shake the Minister's hand. "She's not wrong and you know it. Someone from the Muggle world is going to figure out that this is all real, and then what? Are you prepared to expose our entire community?"

"I won't let it get to that," Kingsley said.

"I sincerely hope you're right. People won't be happy if everything goes to shit and you could have stopped it."

* * *

**July 2009**

"I'm not going," Draco said, leaning against the doorframe of their bathroom. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers, his grey eyes looking at her intently.

Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperated. She swallowed the mouthful of pregnancy tonic her healer had prescribed, the powdery texture coating her throat. "You say that every year. _Every year_. I don't think a single film has come out and you've been excited to see it, yet every year you go and you love it."

"Right, but this one is different," Draco protested. "This is sixth year. You know, the year I don't remember?"

She closed her eyes, guilt flooding her system immediately. "I'm sorry, I can't believe I didn't think about how much harder this one would be for you to see."

"Reading about it was tough enough," he said quietly. "I'm not sure if I can handle seeing Katie or Ron injured because of me."

Stepping away from the sink, she crossed the room and took his hands in hers. He kept his eyes down, looking at the small imprint of a bum at the top of her belly.

"It's alright to not want to go, Draco. I should have realised it sooner. No one will blame you for not going."

"And you won't be mad?"

Hermione shook her head, one of her hands lifting to touch his cheek. "I could never be mad at you for this."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. She tried to deepen it but he broke the kiss quickly, his face twisted in disgust.

"Your mouth tastes like chalk."

* * *

The Floo roared to life, green flames flickering, pulling Draco from his book. He slipped his reading glasses off his face, tucking in the arms and placing them on the end table.

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, walking over and dropping a quick kiss to his lips. She plopped herself down on the sofa next to him, her legs curling up under her and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Long film?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her.

She nodded her head, stifling a yawn. "Yes, and this one wouldn't stop kicking me the entire time."

Chuckling, he brought his free hand to her belly and rubbed the spot where he knew his future son or daughter was likely to be curled up. The fireplace lit up again, spitting out Ginny and Harry, who made their way over to the other sofa.

"So?" Draco asked. "What's the verdict?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "They messed it all up," she grumbled. "That Ginny character, if you can even call her that, is so one dimensional! She barely said five words the whole film. You should have seen that monstrosity they called a first kiss."

He looked over to Harry with a lifted brow. "What did they do to make it so awful?"

"The _real_ first kiss was in the Gryffindor Common Room after a Quidditch match that I wasn't able to attend because of the whole _Sectumsempra_ incident," Harry explained, a red tinge rising to his cheeks. "In the film, we're in the Room of Requirement after hiding the Half-Blood Prince's potion book. It was… uncomfortable to say the least."

"That's how I feel about watching you kiss now," Draco quipped. "What else did they mess up?"

Hermione chuckled beside him, her body shaking slightly. "Lavender. Oh gods, they messed up Lavender." She brought her hands to her face and giggled. "I mean the books made her pretty awful to begin with, but she was just so annoying in the film. So many tears and dramatic faces."

"You're one to talk about tears," Harry added. "Your character practically cried anytime Ron was in the same room!"

Draco eyed her, smirking. "Really? She just cried the whole time? About Ron?"

"They're setting it up for the end of the series when they paired her with him," Ginny snickered. "You know, when she marries Ron and has two babies and you marry Astoria Greengrass."

"Whatever happened to Astoria?" Hermione asked Draco.

"I haven't spoken to her in a while but the last I heard she and Blaise had moved to Italy together and eloped," he said. "They started dating a few years ago."

Harry's brows pulled together in confusion. "I thought Blaise was dating Pansy? Didn't they come to your wedding together?"

"You mean seven years ago? This is Blaise we're talking about. He's dated at _least_ four other people since Pansy. And besides, she's living in Paris now."

"Good for her," Hermione murmured. "She deserves a fresh start."

Draco let out a humourless laugh. Running his hand up and down her arm, he pulled her in tighter. "You hate Pansy. You only tolerated her at our wedding because it stopped Blaise from getting too out of hand."

"Just because I strongly dislike Pansy doesn't mean I can't be happy she's off living in another country."

"Whatever you say." Turning his attention back to the other couple, he asked, "What else? There had to be more than just awkward kisses and Hermione crying all the time."

"You're asking about you?" Ginny waited for him to nod his head before continuing. "Honestly, the appearance was fairly accurate. Even if you don't get Imperiused in the series, they sure make it look like you did. You wore these pompous suits all the time though. It was like the film creators just decided that we stopped wearing uniforms altogether."

"My suits are _not_ pompous," Draco muttered.

Hermione patted his hand and grinned. "Of course they aren't, but you also didn't wear them during school."

Ginny stretched, her arms reaching above her head and releasing a loud yawn. "We should head home," she said. "You know the kids are going to have us up early tomorrow. They don't seem to care that Mummy and Daddy were out late."

"Goodnight," Hermione replied, snuggling into Draco and showing no sign of getting up to say goodbye properly.

As soon as the flames settled behind Harry and Ginny, Draco waved his wand, closing the Floo and warding it for the evening. Scorpius had been curious about the Floo from the moment he could crawl, immediately forcing them to set up protective charms on anything that could hurt him — including blocking the Floo so he couldn't accidentally send himself somewhere.

He leaned down and kissed Hermione gently, lacing his fingers with hers. "How was it really?"

She hummed for a moment, thinking. "It was hard to watch some of the things I had only heard about, like the _Sectumsempra_ incident and Dumbledore's death. Even if the events didn't happen exactly like the book or film portrayed them to be, they still happened." Her hand lifted to trail the pattern of his scars over his shirt. "I think you made the right choice to stay home."

"That's good to know. Scorpius and I had a lovely evening tonight. We read _The Little Dragon that Could_ before bed. Six times."

"He needs more books," she joked. "Clearly the full library of options at his disposal aren't good enough."

"You just want to go to Flourish and Blotts, don't you?"

"Yes, and I'm pregnant, therefore we _have_ to go. It's the rules."

* * *

**August 2009**

"You're doing great, Hermione. Just one more."

"Deep breath. Ready? Push!"

"You're amazing."

"She's here. It's a girl."

Hermione felt her entire body relax. Just hearing those words, and the subsequent cry from her daughter, was enough. The healers would take care of the rest.

A warm hand pushed the hair off of her forehead, a set of lips pressing against her skin. Draco's head rested against hers and she could feel the dampness of his cheeks as the tears hit her scalp.

He was such a sap.

"Are you ready for her?" the healer asked, coming to stand beside them carrying a swaddled pink bundle. Hermione nodded and her daughter was placed in her arms.

Draco sat on the bed next to her as the healers finished casting a few spells and clearing their supplies. The room was emptied out quickly, giving Hermione time with her husband and new infant before contacting everyone else.

"What should we name her?" Draco whispered, his hand coming to rest on their daughter's tiny frame. A small set of fingers wrapped around a single long digit and Hermione could feel him melt at her touch.

"You know what I want," Hermione replied.

"Narcissa, I know." He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "What about, Stella Narcissa?"

"It's perfect. She's perfect. We make perfect babies."

"We really do," he agreed. "It's half two in the morning now so I'll contact Harry and Ginny when we wake up. They can bring Scorpius here after they've had breakfast."

Humming an incoherent response, Hermione nestled closer to Draco's side, Stella snuggled between them. She knew that even if she fell asleep now, he would be wide awake until morning, watching their daughter sleep, forever protecting her.

Just as she began to drift off, she heard him whispering to Stella, telling her all about the strong women in her life, and how she was destined to grow up to be just like them.

* * *

**September 2009**

Hermione pushed through the throngs of people at King's Cross Station, holding Scorpius' hand. She couldn't remember it ever being this crowded; it felt as if people were just standing around waiting for _something_ to happen, though what that was, she wasn't sure.

"I know I typically didn't have to use the barrier, but it was never like this, was it?" Draco asked as he followed behind, his hand resting on her lower back.

"Definitely not. And there used to be _people_ milling around to help first years find their way, but now I can't see a single one."

Draco leaned in close, his breath brushing against her neck as they waited for a large group of Muggles to pass. "If our kind was there helping first years, how come Harry had so much trouble?"

She shot him an incredulous look. "Do you honestly think he was well prepared for his first day? While I had tea with McGonagall prior to getting my letter, he was approached by a half-giant with a squashed birthday cake. I don't think anyone told him who to look for."

At barely a month old, Stella was strapped to Draco's chest using one of the Muggle slings Hermione had purchased from a baby shop in London. If she had known it was going to be as busy as it was, she would have put her in a pram instead. It certainly would have helped clear their path better.

"How on earth are we going to be able to get through the barrier with all this attention?" she said, casually elbowing a man that almost stepped on her son.

An older man dressed approached them, a shiny pin with the Hogwarts crest pinned to his chest. There was a glimmer of magic around the crest, indicating that he was there to help first year students make their way to the train.

"Good morning ma'am," he said with a wink. "Looking to get to the platform?"

"Yes, thank you. I can't even _see_ platforms 9 or 10."

As much as she hated being recognised as Hermione Granger — or Hermione Malfoy, depending on who was talking to her — it had its perks in moments like these. The school aids weren't to approach families unless they were certain they were going to Hogwarts, and having two young children was not typically indicative of that.

"We've had to move things around a bit in recent years. Those Muggle books have drawn quite the crowds," the man explained. "See that closed off section at the end of platform 11? The red door will take you straight to the platform. There are charms around the area so Muggles don't even know the platform extends that far."

Draco looked at the man, concern written all over his face. "How long has it been like this?"

"We noticed more people in 1999, but there was a real surge in popularity around 2002; that's when we changed the barrier. People are coming to take photos of themselves pretending to run through the wall between 9 and 10. A few people have actually tried to cross the barrier, which of course meant a trip to the hospital. It's like they don't understand magic."

"It's been like this for that long?" Hermione asked, shocked. "How did we not know about this?"

The man shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "We've ensured that every Hogwarts letter contains proper instructions. Whoever you're meeting must have forgotten to mention it."

"Right, thanks," Draco said. He turned to Hermione. "We should hurry up if we're going to make it on time."

Hurrying away, they pushed through the crowds once more until they were standing in front of the closed off section of Platform 11. It wasn't even a section between 11 and 12; just plain old Platform 11. A small part of Hermione panged for all the new students that wouldn't know the thrill of running head first into a brick wall and seeing a whole new world on the other side.

Yet another reason for her to find Skeeter and Rowling.

Hermione turned the knob and the door swung open, revealing the shiny red steam engine she had grown to love. Quickly moving through, she caught sight of the Potters, Teddy, Tonks, and Andromeda.

"I'm so sorry I forgot to tell you about the platform changes," said Tonks, after hugs had been given out.

Hermione smiled politely, knowing how stressful the day must have already been on the other woman. "It's alright, an older man was able to point us in the right direction. At least now we'll know where to go when James starts school in five years."

Ginny pulled James close to her, squishing his face against her hip. "I'm not ready for my little boy to go to school."

James groaned and tried to squirm away. "Muuuuum, let me go. It's Teddy's turn, not mine." He freed himself of her hold and ran to stand on his father's side, out of Ginny's reach.

"Train's going to be leaving soon, are you all ready?" Tonks asked her son. Even at eleven he was nearly the same height as her, clearly taking after his dad in that department.

"Yep. My trunk is already packed away. Can I go now? I want to see Victoire."

"Before you go," Draco started. "One last talk?"

Teddy nodded quickly, walking away with Draco and Harry by his sides. Since the war had ended, both Draco and Harry had taken the boy under their wings, telling him all about his father and what it meant to be part of the Black family, not that it truly mattered anymore. They took him to Quidditch matches and taught him how to play, much to Tonks' excitement. It gave her some time to herself, as well as the promise of being able to watch Teddy play when he inevitably made one of the house teams.

"What do you think they're saying?" Andromeda asked, watching the three wizards talk privately.

"They're giving him the map," Ginny said simply. "He has a few years to use it before James starts school and it might as well get some proper use."

Hermione watched as Draco smirked at the younger boy, causing the metamorphmagus' hair to turn a bright shade of pink, the colour matching his cheeks.

"And Draco just told Teddy which alcoves are the most hidden," Hermione sighed.

"Draco Malfoy!" Tonks shouted. "Stop telling my sweet baby boy where to take girls! He's only eleven!"

Most of the platform turned to look at the interaction, including one Victoire Weasley. She, along with many of the other students eavesdropping, giggled. Teddy threw his hands over his face in embarrassment.

"There we go." Tonks smiled, her voice returning to a normal level. "I've embarrassed my son thoroughly enough before sending him off to school. I think I've done parenting right."

The three boys returned to the group and everyone started saying goodbye.

"Go make Slytherin proud," Draco said with a smirk. Andromeda looked over at him smiling and nodded in agreement.

"What? No way!" Tonks protested. "He's going to be in Hufflepuff."

"No no, he'll be in Gryffindor," Harry added. "His dad was a Gryffinfor and he's spent so much time with us."

"But _I'm_ a Hufflepuff and—"

"Bye!" said Teddy, interrupting the bickering. He hurried off to the train, waving at the group of teary-eyed adults. "I'll owl you tonight, Mum."

Andromeda wrapped her arm around Tonks, pulling her close to her side. "Remus would be so proud," she murmured. "You've done a wonderful job raising him."

Hermione gestured to the others that they should leave and let the two women have some space. She could only imagine how hard it must be on Tonks to send her only son away to school.

As they crossed back to Platform 11, Hermione lifted Scorpius in her arms, not wanting him to be trampled by the crowds. Harry and Ginny must have had the same idea since they sandwiched James between them.

"Why is it so busy all of a sudden?" Harry complained. "What possible exciting thing could King's Cross have for Muggles besides a bunch of trains that have always been here?"

Draco turned and eyed him. "Really? You have absolutely no idea?" he drawled.

Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, Ginny smiled. "They're here for you, darling. They all want a chance to experience the same magical feeling you had that first day."

"Impossible," he murmured, his features softening. "I don't think anything compares to that day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update: Sunday, September 20


	22. FLASHBACK: Eighth Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday :)  
> There's a lot of lemony goodness ahead... I figured our lovers deserved it after everything they've been through!

**August 1998**

"No, _you_ listen to me," Hermione threatened. "He was under the Imperius Curse and had no control over his actions. He didn't kill or intentionally harm anyone."

"With all due respect, Miss Granger, many people from the first war claimed that they were under the Imperius Curse, including his own father. Why should we believe that Mr. Malfoy is telling the truth?" asked a woman in a set of purple robes.

Annoyed, she rolled her eyes. "Really? Are you truly incapable of looking at his memories — which he submitted willingly — and determining based on those that he didn't have a choice?"

"He could have manipulated his memories to make them look as if he were Imperiused. How can we be sure that Mr. Malfoy isn't dangerous?"

"Then question him under Veritaserum! Are you witches and wizards or not? We have potions and spells that could quickly rule out all of this but you're too lazy to do anything about it."

Magic crackled around her as her blood pressure spiked. Shortly after the war ended, Draco had received a summons from the Ministry to testify for his war crimes, immediately throwing Hermione into a fit. He was innocent and she would prove it. There was no way she was going to allow him to be sent to Azkaban over things he unwillingly participated in.

It seemed the Wizengamot had other ideas, forcing Draco into a three-day trial where he was questioned about his upbringing and Lucius Malfoy's crimes. They wanted retribution for the crimes Lucius had committed, and since the man was dead, they were trying to place the blame on Draco.

"Miss Granger," Kingsley said, his voice booming through the packed room. "I'll remind you that you are not Mr. Malfoy's representative, nor are you his family. I suggest you think carefully before speaking."

"Minister Shacklebolt, with all due respect, last week you gave me an Order of Merlin, First Class. I'm merely here, as an eighteen-year-old war hero, to remind you that locking people up in Azkaban for their father's crimes is inexcusable." Her tone was clear and even, but anger was bubbling inside her at the hypocrisy in front of her.

A wave of magic pressed from her body and she vaguely heard a yelp from behind her, along with the sound of something snapping. One of the Wizengamot members gasped and a few others stood to look at whatever was happening behind her.

Kingsley opened his mouth to speak but Hermione continued.

"In fact, the Ministry has an awful habit of accusing the wrong people. Should we look into Sirius Black's history, perhaps? Or what about Harry Potter's? He was wrongly accused multiple times. What would have happened if he had been stripped of his magic? Where would we all be then?"

The Minister steepled his fingers in front of him and closed his eyes. The commotion behind her still and the room was silent as everyone waited for him to respond to Hermione's rant, or perhaps even have her removed for being out of line.

When he finally spoke, his voice was clear and slow, each syllable punctuated. "Mr. Malfoy, you will report to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on Monday morning for the administration of Veritaserum and subsequent questioning. Pending their findings, you will be registered at Hogwarts to complete your seventh year. Failure to comply with either of these stipulations will result in your immediate arrest."

Hermione released the breath she had been holding, and tension eased from her shoulders. She knew Draco would pass the test with the DMLE, and they had already discussed returning to Hogwarts to complete their education. It finally felt like they would be able to begin moving on from the war and all of the scars that came with it, and Draco was finally getting the fresh start he deserved.

"And please," Kingsley continued. "Go to St. Mungo's as soon as you can. I can't imagine you'll want that scarring."

She turned around to where Draco was sitting, his eyes wide and his knuckles white as they gripped the side of the chair he was sitting on. Her discarded chair lay next to him, broken into small pieces. A thin red line down his cheek, which she assumed was a result of her magical outburst and the broken chair.

Rushing to his side, she knelt in front of him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you! I just couldn't stand the idea of someone taking you away from me again."

"I — I can go?" he murmured. "That's it?"

Hermione nodded, her fingers intertwining with his, a small smile gracing her features. "That's it. You're free, Draco. Finally free."

* * *

Hermione stood beside Draco as one of the Healers inspected the injury on his cheek. Under normal circumstances, she would have just applied Dittany, but because it was caused by magical outburst, the Healer wanted to make sure there wouldn't be any residue after it healed.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I was just about to send you an owl," said Healer Bath, her head popping into the room they were in. "Do you have a moment?"

"I'll be fine, Hermione. It's a scratch. You don't need to hover," grumbled Draco. He let out a soft hiss as the Healer tending to him applied a thick paste. "I've had worse."

She sighed and dropped a kiss to the top of his head before making her way out into the corridor to speak to Healer Bath. "Have you heard anything?" she asked nervously.

Healer Bath took a deep breath before handing Hermione a folder. "The Healers in Sydney have done extensive testing on your parents and they were unable to return their memories. If they continue to work with them as they have been, there is a very high risk that they may do damage to their hippocampi and prevent them from making new memories."

It felt like a lead weight dropped into her stomach. Her entire world lurched and she wasn't certain if she was still standing upright.

All she had wanted was to keep her parents safe. She hadn't meant to erase herself from their lives forever. The plan was always to go to Australia, return their memories, and bring them back to England.

She hadn't accounted for this, for the fact that the Obliviation might be permanent.

"Hermione? Hermione, can you hear me?"

"What did you say to her?"

"Her parents… we couldn't retrieve their memories... they…"

She let the grief of losing them wash over her, succumbing to the numbness that came with it. Tomorrow she would deal with it, but for today, in that moment, she didn't want to feel anything.

* * *

**September 1998**

"It feels weird to be back. It's like nothing has changed and yet everything is different."

Hermione stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork, vaguely aware of what Ginny and Harry were talking about. The Great Hall was decorated with all of the house colours and lively chatter filled the space, new and returning students exchanging stories of their summers. Since the first year class was double what it had been in the past years, and the addition of an eighth year class, the hall was packed. Headmistress McGonagall had placed extension charms on the space to accommodate for all the faculty and students.

Much as she enjoyed sitting with her fellow Gryffindors, what she really wanted was to crawl into her bed and sleep. Being back at Hogwarts filled her with a sense of comfort and warmth, but also a feeling of guilt. She was eating roast chicken and veg in the place where people had died. Not far from where she sat, Voldemort had taken his final breath.

It was a hard image to wrap her head around.

"What do you think, Hermione?"

Bringing her attention back to her friends, she mumbled an apology. "Could you repeat that?"

Harry sighed lightheartedly. "I asked what you thought McGonagall's announcement was going to be tonight. She mentioned at the beginning that there was news she would share before the end of the feast."

Shrugging, she poked at the food on her plate. "If it's anything like what Dumbledore's used to be, I imagine it'll be something along the lines of an out of bounds corridor or some new regulation the Ministry has put in place." The corners of her mouth turned up in a small smirk.

"Don't remind me of that. Headmistress McGonagall is already better than Dumbledore and we've barely been back a couple of hours," Ginny said.

Rolling his eyes, Harry groaned. "You're only saying that because she made you Gryffindor's Quidditch captain this year."

"Oh, don't be sour. You can be our cheerleader," Ginny teased. "You had plenty of years of Quidditch; it's only fair that the eighth years don't get to play this year."

The noise in the Great Hall quieted as McGonagall stepped up to the owl podium. She wore the same rich green robes she always had, but there was a look of pride in her features as she smiled at the students in front of her.

"Before you all go off to bed, there are a few things to mention." Her Scottish voice rang clearly through the room as each person listened intently. Even the Slytherins loved their new Headmistress. "All eighth year students are to stay behind after the feast has finished so that I may show them to their new dormitories. You will all still be part of your houses, but you will now be sharing space on the third floor."

Hermione looked to the Slytherin table, her eyes immediately catching Draco's. He smirked at her and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Knots formed in her stomach at the thought of their close proximity for the next year, and she hoped that they would finally be able to get their relationship back to where it had been before sixth year had torn them apart.

Even though they had been living at Grimmauld Place with Harry, neither Draco nor Hermione had been ready to be intimate again. They spent countless hours talking, grieving lost time, and healing their wounds, but they had yet to broach the subject of sex and whether or not they were able to be vulnerable with one another like that.

So much had happened.

"There is also a new addition to the back of the castle, overlooking the lake," McGonagall continued, bringing Hermione's attention back to the front of the room and away from her boyfriend's hungry gaze. "The Hall of Heroes was built to honour and commemorate those who died during the wars. Families of those who were killed on Hogwarts' grounds in May were given the opportunity to have a portrait of their loved ones created, all of which can be found in the new building. I encourage each of you to go and speak to the fallen and hear of their stories. Read about those who died and did not have a portrait created. No one's story should be forgotten."

Looking over at Ginny, Hermione reached across and grabbed her friend's hand, knowing how hard it was for her to return to school without Ron. The redhead gave her a small smile and blinked away tears.

"Have you seen him yet?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ginny shook her head. "Harry and I are going tomorrow. Will you come?"

"Of course. Whatever you need."

* * *

The eighth year dormitories overlooked the Black Lake, its depths reflecting the stillness of the night. Hermione could see the faint glow of a fire coming from the south side where she knew some of the upper year students would be meeting to celebrate the start of a new year. Not long after being shown to their new space, she had found the perfect window seat for reading, or in this case, watching her classmates.

"Are you sure you don't want to go join them?" she asked, turning her head to look at Draco, who was sitting behind her with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

He shook his head and sighed. "I'm still not sure I'm ready to be back. All through dinner Blaise and Pansy kept asking me if I remembered doing certain things with them, and it's all blank. I _want_ to remember, but I just can't. The last thing I remember about them was that we all lived together but I definitely didn't tell them secrets or open up about things. We were barely friends."

"And now they're expecting you to still be the person they knew last year and the year before?"

"Exactly. I'm still trying to figure out who that person was and if there's a way that I can merge that person with who I am now."

Resting her head against his shoulder, she looked back out over the lake. "The best way to figure that out is to go talk to them. They're at the fire; you should go be with them."

"What about you? Will you come with me?" he asked, his voice dropping to an uneasy whisper.

She shook her head. "I think you need to do this alone. I don't really want to be friends with Pansy, but if you want to, I think you should. She and Blaise were there for you when I couldn't be."

He sighed again before dropping a kiss to her cheek and untangling himself from their cosy position. "If you can't sleep tonight, you know which room mine is," he said with a wink. "I won't mind if I come home to a witch in my bed."

Rolling her eyes, she grinned back at him. "Go have fun."

She watched as he slipped through the Common Room door before turning to watch over the grounds again. The uneasy feeling she had at dinner hadn't gone away, and she wasn't certain she would be able to sleep that night. She and Draco had spent several nights together over the summer, but that was mostly to keep the nightmares away for both of them. The first night back at Hogwarts would likely be no different.

"Ugh, I can't just sit here," she muttered to herself, frustrated.

Slipping off the window seat, Hermione made her way to the door and out into the corridor. She wasn't certain where she was planning to go, letting her feet carry her mindlessly. The castle was quiet, with even Filch and Mrs. Norris out of the way. Headmistress McGonagall had probably told them to give the students this one night to adjust.

Within a few minutes, she was standing in front of a large wooden door, one she hadn't seen before. Even though the wood was weathered and the hinges creaked when it opened, she could tell it was new. She didn't even need to look at the sign hanging above it to know what was behind it.

"About bloody time one of you showed up. I feel like I've been waiting an eternity."

At the end of the long corridor was a large portrait, hung in an intricate gold frame. It depicted the Quidditch pitch on the most beautiful sunny day, a slight breeze running through the painting and rustling the hair of its inhabitants. Ron stood proudly in the middle of it, wearing a burgundy knit sweater with a large _R_ in the middle. He reminded her so much of the boy she met on the train eight years earlier.

"We only got in today," she said quietly, unsure of how to treat the portrait of one of her best friends. "Ginny is going to come tomorrow. Does that mean anything to you? Time, I mean."

Ron shrugged. "Not really, but the other portraits in the castle do a pretty good job of keeping those of us in here up to snuff on what's happening elsewhere, so that helps. Did you know Dean and Seamus are dating?"

"They are?! Since when?" she gasped. Plopping herself down into the chair across from the portrait, she leaned her elbows on her knees. "And how do you know?"

Taking a deep breath, he launched into his story. "The Fat Lady saw them sneaking out in third year, and Sir Elwyn on the second floor saw them sneaking into the trophy room in fourth year. Herman Maystaff, outside the Ravenclaw Tower watched them slip into an alcove at the end of fifth year. And in sixth year, Johannes Schnieder saw them walking together and told Moaning Myrtle, who followed them into a bathroom and—"

"Alright!" she said, cutting Ron off. "I get the picture. You portraits are all bloody gossips."

He laughed, and the lightness in his voice made Hermione grin in response. She couldn't remember a sound ever sounding so sweet.

"If you ever want to know the secrets of the castle, just talk to a portrait. They'll tell you _everything_."

"Unless they're using an Invisibility Cloak," she teased. "I can't believe how many times you and Harry snuck around using that thing."

"Just Harry and I?" Ron's brows lifted high under his fringe. "I can remember quite a few times when three of us fit under there. Or what about the time in fifth year that you used it to sneak off to visit a certain ferret? Where is Draco anyway?"

"Spending some time with Pansy and Blaise and some others. This year is going to be an adjustment for a lot of us, trying to figure out how to piece together who we were before and who we are now."

Ron exhaled, nodding his head thoughtfully. "I get that. I'm still not sure how I feel about being here like this. McGonagall explained it to all of us when we woke up, and I know that my parents will be happy when I have a second frame at the Burrow and can go visit, but…"

"But?" she prompted, wanting to know more. Ron didn't open up often, and with the Hall of Heroes quiet except for the two of them, she hoped that he would use this chance to actually share with her.

"But you and Harry and Ginny, and even Malfoy, all get to move on with your lives while I watch. You'll come back to visit and bring your children and I'll still be here, eighteen-year-old Uncle Ronald." He paused and Hermione waited while he collected his thoughts. "I'm sure it'll get easier, but for right now, it's a lot to think about."

Tugging her lip between her teeth, she thought about what he was saying. She couldn't imagine waking up one day and finding herself trapped between canvas and a frame, destined to spend the rest of her days like that. It was part of why Tonks had decided not to have one made for Remus; she said he would be miserable if he were stuck like that without Sirius or James.

"I think that's why Draco chose not to have one made of Narcissa," she explained. "I don't think he would ever fully move forward if there was always a part of her here."

Ron's eyes cast down at the ground, his lips slipping into a frown. "I hadn't heard she was killed. The Weasleys and Malfoys may have a bad history, but she wasn't like the rest of them. Tell Draco… tell him I'm sorry."

"I will. Thanks, Ron."

They fell into comfortable conversation until it was well after midnight and Hermione realised she needed to go to bed. Her nervousness over seeing portrait Ron for the first time had dissipated quickly, allowing them time to reminisce about the past and apologise for all the unkind things they had said and done to each other. She said goodbye to him, promising that she would come back and see him soon.

When she finally returned to her new living quarters, Hermione immediately went to Draco's room, finding the bed to still be empty. Digging through his trunk, she found an old Slytherin jumper that was too big on her and traded her robes for the soft shirt.

His sheets were cool as she snuggled into them, letting her body and mind succumb to sleep. She wasn't sure how much time had passed when he finally returned, but she was aware of the dip in the mattress and the faint smell of burning wood. His hands snaked around her torso and pulled her close, protecting her from whatever bad dreams might come.

But for the first time in months, Hermione slept through the night.

* * *

**October 1998**

" _Still?_ " Pansy gasped one morning at breakfast. Her fork slipped from her hand and clanged against her plate. "We've been back at school for nearly two months, you're practically sharing a room, and you _still_ haven't shagged her? Merlin, Draco, what's wrong with you?"

"There is nothing wrong with me," he protested. "We've been through a lot and I'm not going to pressure her into jumping back into bed with me."

Blaise's eyes sparkled at the new information. "Back into bed? Meaning she's been there before. Do share with the rest of us."

"Oh, sod off, you cocky bastard. Not all of us feel the need to tell the rest of the school about our conquests," Draco snipped. "Besides, the whole _Imperio_ thing happened pretty much right away. It's not exactly like I was able to tell you about it then."

Pansy waved her hand through the air nonchalantly. "Small details. You got your mind back months ago. If you're not careful, some other wizard, like Blaise over here, might swoop in and steal her from you."

Letting her words sink in, Draco shifted his attention over to the Gryffindor table where Hermione was sitting. She was smiling brightly at something Neville was saying to her, causing a pang of jealousy to settle into his veins. He couldn't let someone like Longbottom, or Merlin-forbid, Blaise, convince Hermione to move on from him.

"Fuck," he mumbled, turning back to his meal. "I can't lose her."

"And you won't," Pansy said confidently. "Here's what you need to do…"

* * *

He had slipped Hermione a note during their morning Arithmancy class asking her to meet him in the back corner of the library during their free period. She gave him a confused look but nodded her head before turning back to taking notes.

She was running late and Draco's nervousness had sprouted wings and was flying loops in his stomach. Maybe she knew what he wanted to do and was trying to find a way out of it. Maybe she was off snogging Longbottom. Or perhaps Blaise had gotten to her first…

"Sorry I'm late," she panted, coming around the corner and tripping to a halt in front of him. Her hands reached out and grabbed his arms for stability. "Professor Sprout held the class back to re-pot a few Mandrakes the second years messed up."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took in her wild hair, bright eyes, and rosy cheeks, and he couldn't help himself. Sliding his hands through her hair, Draco closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth to hers. She gasped slightly, her lips parting and allowing him to glide his tongue against hers.

Her hands shifted from his arms to twist around his neck, keeping their bodies tight against one another. Moving his palms down her neck and back, he gripped under her arse and lifted her off the ground. Instivitely, she wrapped her legs around him, and he could feel her ankles lock behind him. The idea of being held so close to her had all blood rushing to his cock and he thought he might pass out.

She moaned deliciously into his mouth, her tongue moving slowly to dance with his. He could feel her fingertips massaging his scalp as she played with his hair.

Gods, he wanted her. Craved her. Needed her.

Moving slowly, he carried her over to the table behind him and set her down on the wooden top. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting on hers as they caught their breath.

"Do you remember the first time we kissed?" he asked. Confusion flashed through her gaze but she nodded anyway. "I had you sitting on this table here, wanting to snog you senseless. There were so many things I wanted to do to you that night but I waited... but I'm tired of waiting."

The tight pull of her brow relaxed and she smirked at him, her chin lifting. "What did you have in mind?"

Kissing her slowly, Draco moved his lips from hers, down her jaw and neck, before dropping to his knees between her parted legs. He lifted his eyes to look at her, seeing the cockiness on her face as she leaned back on her elbows.

"Are you alright with this?" he asked, not wanting her to feel obligated to do something she wasn't ready for.

"Draco," she whispered. "I've been dreaming of fucking you in the library for longer than I care to imagine."

No further prompting needed, he placed open mouth kisses on the insides of her knees. His hands slid up her thighs and under her skirt, gently brushing against the cotton of her knickers and making her sigh. He kissed higher, his fingers curling under the soaked fabric. She bucked her hips forward and his finger stroked her slit, eliciting another breathy moan.

Pushing her skirt up against her hips, he ran his tongue along the soft skin of her upper thigh. He tugged at the waistband of her knickers and she lifted her arse, allowing him to shimmy them off of her. With a roguish smirk, he tucked the pair into the back pocket of his trousers.

There was the faint sound of parchment flipping from a few rows over and he knew they could be caught at any moment, but he didn't care, and neither did she. Her bare cunt was exposed to him, dripping with want and begging for him to taste her. He hadn't even realised how much he had missed this intimacy until just then — the desperate look in her eyes as she bit her lip and watched him, waiting.

His thumb stroked her clit, and she moaned.

"Careful, love," he warned. "You don't want anyone to catch us, do you?"

Testing her, he pressed against her clit once more, a single digit slipping between her folds. She bit down on her bottom lip and her eyes fluttered shut. Her knuckles were growing white from gripping the table.

Satisfied that she wasn't making a sound, he removed his fingers from her cunt and dragged the flat of his tongue along her, savouring the taste he loved so much. Digging his fingers into the flesh of her thighs and arse, he held her in place as he sucked on her clit. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud before sliding his tongue deep into her.

One of her hands moved to grip his hair, holding his head in place as he continued to fuck her cunt. She rolled her hips against his mouth, letting out breathy gasps of pleasure. Moving his mouth slightly, he grazed his teeth against her clit and thrust two fingers into her hot core. Her orgasm was building and he wanted to feel her release.

She let his name fall from her lips, barely a whisper, as she tumbled. Her grip on his hair loosened and her hips stilled. He gave her a moment to recover as his tongue moved against her lazily.

"I can't believe we just did that," she said finally.

Rising to his feet, Draco kissed her deeply, sliding his tongue against the seam of her lips. She pressed into him, her feet hooking around his legs. Her need was as insatiable as his own and he was happy to oblige.

Hermione's hands moved to the buckle on his trousers and pulled them down enough for her to free his hard cock from his pants. Her fingers curled around his shaft, pumping him slightly before she ran her thumb over the head. Knowing he wasn't going to last long if she kept up her ministrations, he lifted her up again, her cunt positioned above his cock.

Pressing her against the bookshelf behind him, he lowered her down onto him, giving her a moment to adjust. The walls of her cunt were tight, holding him in place. He knew that it had been two years since either of them had shagged anyone and he didn't want to hurt her or rush through this. Not that fucking her against the library bookshelf was exactly romantic, but it didn't seem to bother her any. If anything, it seemed to turn her on even more.

Her fingers dug into his arms and she tried to buck against him. Following her lead, he moved her slowly, building up pace until she was bouncing on his cock. She dropped her mouth to the juncture of his neck and shoulder and he could feel her teeth grazing the exposed skin. He hoped she was going to come again soon, because he knew if she kept that up, he wouldn't last much longer.

With her legs wound tightly around him, he moved one hand from under her to press into her clit. Rubbing rough circles, he sucked on her collarbone, drawing her closer to a second orgasm. Her walls fluttered and tightened, locking him in place as she clenched down around him.

"That's it, Hermione. Fuck, you feel so good."

Bouncing her on him a few more times, he felt his body stiffen and his dick pulse with pleasure. Heat ran through his body, exploding out of him as he emptied himself inside of her. She clenched down on him again, milking his climax until he felt drained; literally and figuratively.

Her breathing was warm and ragged against his neck. "You were — that was — can we—"

"Whatever you want, love. Whatever you want, and it's yours."

* * *

**November 1998**

They spent countless hours in each other's rooms, limbs tangled into a web of intimacy, silently praying to never have to let go. On weekends they would emerge for meals, only to return to the quiet and safety of their space. No one disturbed them, though whether it was because they knew better or the silencing charms had failed, Hermione couldn't be certain.

"I love you."

He peppered kisses against her collarbone between professions of his love for her. He told her how beautiful she was, how brilliant she was, how he would never let her go so long as she wanted him. He worshipped every part of her, working his way down her torso until he was nestled between her legs, his fingers parting her folds until he was able to leave kisses there as well.

"I need you," she moaned, her eyes closing and back arching against the mattress. "I love you and need you. _Yes_ , like that."

There were no other words to aptly express the want and need she felt for him. After the war, when they didn't immediately fall into bed with one another, and when they returned to school in September and he wasn't throwing himself at her, self-doubt crept in. It taunted her, reminding her of the times when she would see Pansy clinging to him as they walked through the halls like they owned the place, filling the space she had once occupied with Draco.

But he was there every day, telling her he loved her, _showing_ that he loved her. He knew how she took her coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon, and which jam she preferred on her toast. Both the physical and emotional parts of their relationship had returned to where they'd been two years earlier.

His fingers stroked the exact spot she needed and Hermione tumbled over the edge of her orgasm, gripping the sheets beneath her as waves of pleasure hit her. The cry of his name fell from her lips as her eyes squeezed shut. She could feel his smirk against her clit, his tongue darting out to keep her in this suspended state of satisfaction.

She opened her eyes and looked down at where he was still positioned between her legs, his fingers pressing into her thighs. His pupils were blown wide and his mouth was damp with her climax. He had never looked so disheveled before, and she was completely in love.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his breath ghosting across her sensitive cunt. "I love you."

* * *

**December 1998**

"Can anyone tell me what steps I would take to create Draught of Living Death?"

Hermione knew the answer to the question; she could repeat it verbatim since she was fifteen. Any other day, she would have been able to recite the full list of ingredients and how to prepare them for the potion, but today was different.

Draco's hand had spent the entire potions class creating a taunting pathway up her leg and under her skirt. He hadn't even touched her bare skin, yet she felt like she was on the edge of a climax from what limited contact they had. The fact that they were in a classroom surrounded by their peers only seemed to add to the thrill of it all.

"Miss Granger," Professor Slughorn called. "Surely as one of our top students, you know the answer to this."

She cleared her throat and wracked her brain for the answer. "Of course, Professor." Her stockings vanished and she was left bare-legged. Draco ran his thumb over her knickers, applying the slightest pressure against her clit. "First you'll press — no, cut — wait, that's not…"

Slughorn looked at her curiously. "Are you alright, Miss Granger? This is a sixth year level potion. Surely you've had this memorised for years."

A single finger pulled her knickers to the side while a second digit stroked her wet folds. The pressure on her clit increased.

"I'm fine. Just a bit of a headache is all."

Two fingers moved against her cunt, opening her up and sliding in slowly.

"Would you like to go see Madam Pomfrey?" Slughorn asked, his voice laced with concern.

Draco thrusted into her deeper, his middle finger hitting her in just the right spot.

"Yes!" she gasped, jumping slightly at the feeling of bliss welling up inside of her. "I mean, erm, no, that's alright. I'll just go see her after class."

Slughorn nodded his head solemnly and then called upon another student to continue listing out the directions. Pansy, who was sitting the row ahead of them turned around and smirked at Hermione knowingly.

"You're blushing, Granger," she quipped quietly. "Might want to get that under control before someone finds out it's not a headache you have after all."

Squeezing her eyes shut and resting her head on the table, Hermione focused on what Draco was doing and the delicious way his hand moved against her. He knew the exact speed in which to move his thumb, how to crook his fingers just right, and the exact way to thrust into her so that the rest of the room couldn't hear how wet she was.

His breath fanned across her neck as he leaned over her to whisper, his hand still moving against her. "I can't wait to take you when class is over. Perhaps Slughorn will leave us alone and I can bend you over the table and—"

"Mr Malfoy! Our other top student. What ingredients would you harvest under a full moon?"

The prat didn't miss a beat; his movements never faltered, even as he answered the question with confidence. "Fluxweed, Jasmine, and Nyctocereus."

"Right you are! Five points to Slytherin."

Hermione wanted to smack him for his confidence, for the fact that he got points over something so simple, for the fact that the confidence in his voice was the sexiest thing she'd heard all day and she wanted to hear him say her name over and over again in that same tone.

Instead, she gripped the edge of her seat as her orgasm washed over her. Biting her lip, she stifled her moan and remained as still as possible. She could only imagine the trouble and humiliation she would face if they were caught.

Draco removed his fingers from her knickers, sucking them into his mouth one at a time.

"I'll get you back for that," she whispered, her mouth dry.

"I hope you do." And then the bastard winked.

* * *

**January 1999**

Draco had never seen such a beautiful sight as Hermione naked by the twinkling Christmas tree. The lights danced across her body, the glowing lights casting shadows of her bouncing breasts over her stomach. Her knees bracketed his hips as she slid against his cock, her movements rough and wanting.

Studying the rocking motion of her hips and the way she threw her head back in ecstasy, he watched as she succumbed to the feeling of her climax. She cried out his name, followed by a gasp of air as she crumbled over him, her head nestling in the crook of his neck.

With her taut nipples rubbing against his chest and her hips still rolling slowly, Draco dug his fingers into her waist and thrust upwards, chasing his own release. He could feel his cock stiffen and his body tense as the pressure built. A few more pumps into her and he would be there, falling alongside her.

"Under the tree? Really?"

At Harry's voice, Hermione yelped and immediately clambered off Draco, leaving his erect dick standing tall and glistening in the Christmas lights. He groaned at the simultaneous loss of contact and the fact that he was now completely exposed.

"You have the entire house to yourself for the whole day, yet you chose to shag under the tree that's placed directly in front of the Floo?"

Reaching for one of the blankets on a nearby sofa, Draco tossed it over both his and Hermione's laps. She tugged the knit material up over her breasts, her face flushed.

Harry stood in front of them, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as Ginny stood behind him, doubled over in silent laughter. "We go back to school tomorrow; you couldn't have waited until then?" he groaned.

One corner of Draco's mouth pulled upwards into a wicked smirk. "But at Hogwarts we couldn't have shagged under the tree, here, at your home. And since this is the first Christmas Hermione and I are spending without any family, we just thought we'd do something to take our minds off of the sadness of it all."

Playing along, Hermione sniffed and batted her eyelashes at her friend. "It's just so hard."

"I noticed," Ginny replied, bursting into another fit of laughter. "Nicely done, Hermione."

With a groan, Harry pulled Ginny from the room. "You better use _multiple_ cleaning spells!" he shouted from the corridor. "And maybe _Obliviate_ me while you're at it."

* * *

**February 1999**

Draco was certain he was having an out of body experience.

He was leaning back against the stacks in the library. His one hand was gripping the shelf behind him while the other was holding onto fistfuls of Hermione's curls. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her cheeks hollowed.

The back of the library had become a favourite spot of theirs. It was tucked away enough that the risk of being caught was small, but it was public enough that the risk was still there. And that seemed to turn Hermione on more than anything.

After their first tryst in October had brought them back together intimately, they had been finding new places to get each other off; the potions classroom, the alcove on the fourth floor — even in the Great Hall one night, long after everyone was asleep. The library remained at the top of their list through it all.

"Fuck," Draco hissed through clenched teeth. "Keep doing that."

If it was possible to smirk with her mouth around his cock, Hermione was doing it. She pulled him in deeper, her lips holding him tightly. He could feel her tongue slide along the bottom of his shaft as her hand moved from gripping his thigh to cupping his bollocks.

"I'm going to come if you don't stop," he warned, his voice low.

With a pop, she released him. "That's kind of the point," she teased. The tip of her tongue flicked out to graze against the head of his cock before she drew him back into the warmth of her mouth.

Groaning again, Draco let his head fall back on the shelf. He pressed his eyes shut and focused on the feeling of Hermione and the way she moaned deeply, causing a rumble of electricity to course through him. His body tensed, and she sucked harder.

The head of his cock brushed the back of her throat as she pulled him into the hilt and he exploded.

* * *

**March 1999**

"Oh gods, yes! Fuck, yes. More, Draco!"

Hermione arched her back against the cold stands of the Quidditch pitch, her exposed nipples taut and alert as Draco pounded into her repeatedly. She was thankful for the cushioning charms they'd cast on the benches earlier.

It wasn't that she had intended on shagging Draco on the stands, but when the opportunity arose, there was no way she was going to turn it down.

Draco's hand slid up her stomach and tweaked a nipple, eliciting another cry from her lips. His other thumb rubbed rough circles over her clit.

"Hermione," he growled, his voice low. "You look so perfect like this. I've imagined fucking you here for years."

The pure desire in his voice was enough to throw her over the edge, her climax roaring through her like fire, her screams of his names echoing around the empty field.

When Draco released himself into her, collapsing against her chest, she could feel the quick patter of his heart against hers. His breath came out in warm pants against her neck, lazy kisses being placed against her flushed skin.

She ran her cold hands along his back, her nails grazing the rough lines of his scars, and felt his cock stir in her. "Can we do that again?"

* * *

**April 1999**

Draco was vaguely aware of their friends entering the Common Room, but he was too busy trying to unsnap Hermione's bra to care.

"Third time this week?" Ginny laughed. "Pay up, Potter."

Harry coughed loudly, clearly trying to get them to stop or at least make an attempt to cover up, but Draco urged on. Hermione's legs were wound tightly around his waist and he could feel her soaked knickers through his trousers. If Harry and Ginny would just leave then he could finish what he started, which was shagging Hermione in the shared space.

"You know you have your own rooms, right?" Harry sighed. "They're not even that far from here."

Hermione giggled beneath him as her hips bucked into his. Clearly she was planning on ignoring them as well. Her teeth captured his lip and tugged hard.

"Witch," Draco quipped quietly. He tipped his head up to look at Harry and Ginny over Hermione's head and addressed the pair. "Red has her own Common Room. You could spend more time there. Or you could stick around and learn a thing or two."

Ginny's face lit up and she bounced on her toes. "Oh, let's do that! Draco, can you show him how to—"

"No!" Harry yelled, pressing his hand against his witch's mouth. "Draco isn't teaching me anything and we are _not_ staying to watch them shag. I've already walked in on that once."

"Suit yourself," Draco smirked.

Hermione's legs squeezed his hips and rolled her pelvis against him. His cock twitched in his pants as he brought his attention back to the witch under him. She was far more enjoyable than teasing Potter.

"Where were we?" he drawled, capturing her lips between his, the satisfying _pop_ of her bra snapping between his fingers.

* * *

**May 1999**

"Do you remember when you first came to visit me?" Ron asked one afternoon in May.

Hermione nodded her head as she took a bite of her sandwich. "Sure. What about it?"

"Well I told you that portraits know everything, and they do, 'Mione. They know about what happens in the library, and tucked away alcoves, and even abandoned classrooms during the dinner commemorating one year since the end of the war."

She stopped chewing, heat rising in her cheeks. "No," she choked, not caring that she hadn't swallowed her food yet.

"Oh yes. Several portraits and ghosts told me _all_ about the shagging going on in the school this year and I nodded along, thinking that this was what always happened with the upper year students. Imagine my surprise though, to learn that all of the wild events they told me about were with one couple…"

"Oh gods," she murmured, eyes wide. "No, no, no. They told you about the classroom?"

He nodded, grimacing. "From what I heard, you left sometime after the dinner and returned just in time for the dancing."

"We missed dessert too," Hermione grumbled. Draco had insisted that he _needed_ her right then and couldn't bear to wait any longer.

"That's not what I heard. There was something about chocolate and—"

"No! I can't do this. Oh Merlin, I can't believe you heard about _that_. I—I have to go. Bye, Ronald!"

Hermione tore out of the hall as quickly as she could, needing to put space between her and Ron before he told her about more of her and Draco's sexual escapades around the castle. It was bad enough that some of their classmates had walked in on some heavy petting and dry humping — that was more amusing than anything — but the fact that Ron knew of the more intimate details was awful.

"That's it," she announced when she walked into the Common Room to find Draco sitting on one of the sofas with Harry, Blaise, Pansy, and Theo. "No more shagging outside our rooms."

"About fucking time," Harry muttered. "I've seen Draco's arse one too many times."

* * *

**June 1999**

The small boats carried them across the lake, Hogwarts' lights glowing in the water's mirror-like surface. Draco sat in the small rowboat with Hermione tucked against his side, and Harry and Ginny on the bench in front of them.

"I can't believe we're leaving forever," said Ginny quietly. She leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, removing any of the distance between them.

Looking down at Hermione, Draco watched the reflection of lights twinkling in her eyes. Her gaze was focused on the castle fading the distance; the place that they had experienced so many memories slipping away into the night.

"Everything alright?" he asked softly, his lips pressing into her hair briefly.

She nodded, a look of melancholy filling her features. "We almost died there, multiple times. I tried to fight a troll, a Basilisk, a werewolf, a handful of dark wizards… I wasn't expecting to feel this sad leaving."

"That's all the bad things though," Draco said. "You became friends with Harry and Ron because of that troll, you helped save Ginny's life because you knew about the Basilisk, and you saved my cousin from the Dementor's kiss. You helped bring down an evil wizard in there."

"I fell in love with you," she added with a small smile. "That part was pretty great."

Pressing his lips to hers, he poured out all the strange and wonderful and conflicting emotions he felt bubbling up. He owed everything to the woman sitting next to him, and he knew he would do whatever it took to keep her there.

He broke the kiss, pulling away only enough that their noses were still brushing against each other's. "I'm going to marry you one day, I hope you know that."

Hermione let out a small, breathless laugh. "I certainly hoped so."

Kissing her quickly once more, Draco shifted on the small bench so that both of his arms were wrapped around her, her back to his chest. The two couples sat quietly in the boat for the remainder of the short ride to Hogsmeade. There wasn't much else to say.

It was hard to put into words how eight years of memories made a man feel as he left the place that surrounded it at all.

Hermione had been right; falling in love there had been pretty great. Making the friends he did had been irreplaceable. It took away the darkness his father had cast upon his life, and held ease the pain of losing his mother on those very grounds.

The boats docked in the small village and everyone disembarked onto land, shuffling forward nervously. There was a whole new world out there for each of them to go forward and take by the horns. Or whatever it was McGongagall had said to them at the final feast.

"Alright all yer kids... Erm… 'spose yer not kids anymore," Hagrid said with a sniffle. "Hogwarts'll always be here for yer. Best not miss the train home."

Slipping his hand into Hermione's, Draco pulled her forward towards the red engine. They made their way through the train, past the younger students who had no idea the emotions their peers were struggling with.

"Are you going back to the Manor then?" Harry asked when they found a compartment. "You know you don't have to."

"The Ministry has gone through with Curse Breakers and cleared out all the dark artifacts and books, but there's still so much to do before I can sell it," Draco replied. "I don't want the property anymore, but I hate the idea of it just sitting around empty forever. We've decided to stay there for a few months and then find a place to call our own."

Hermione, flipping the page of her book, interjected, "Somewhere Lucius hasn't had his hands all over. I don't want to start a family somewhere Voldemort might have been. So, fresh start. Which you should be doing with Grimmauld Place as well. Not just a few rooms, but the whole place."

Ginny slid over to sit next to Hermione, the two of them discussing what they could do to freshen up the large home Harry and Ginny would be living in. "Oh! Let's go find Neville. He would have great ideas for the back garden," said the redhead.

When they were alone, Harry cast a silent privacy charm on the compartment door. "I'm asking Ginny to marry me next weekend. I'm getting my mother's ring from Gringotts tomorrow and I'm asking her to marry me." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "You think she'll say yes?"

"I've heard about the Potter ring; of course she'll say yes," Draco laughed. "Besides, she loves you. I can't imagine a better suited person for you and vice versa."

"Thanks," Harry said, a slight blush rising in his cheeks.

Sticking his hand out towards Harry, Draco smiled. "Congratulations, mate."

Unlike the first time the two wizards met, Harry grasped his hand and shook it.

It was unreal what a difference eight years could make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already seen it, my amazing friends, PotionChemist and Curly_Kay commissioned a piece by the lovely and talented Nadya Polyakova for Truth, Lies, and Storytelling! You can find it on my tumblr, breathofthephoenix, or on Nadya's, nadiapolyakova.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there!  
> There's a bit of a time jump half way through this one, so keep an eye on the dates :)

**February 2010**

Hermione grabbed her coat from the hook next to the door and pulled it on over her jumper. She knew the late February air would bite at their skin the minute they were exposed to the Scotland winds.

"Almost ready?" Draco asked, popping his head into the bedroom. He was holding Stella in his arms, her six-month old body bundled up so much she looked more like a marshmallow than a baby. "I have Scorpius dressed but I'm not sure how long he'll stay that way."

Laughing, Hermione followed her husband down the stairs to the sitting room where their son waited, wrapped in a warm cloak and scarf. He bounced on the tips of his toes, excitement clear in his eyes.

"I want to see Uncle Ron!" he demanded. "I want to hear stories!"

"Well then it's a good thing we're going to see him then, isn't it? Don't forget, tomorrow is his birthday, so be sure you wish him a happy birthday before you start demanding stories," Hermione said. She pulled a wool hat over Scorpius' head, ensuring his ears were covered. "Don't take your hat off until we get to Uncle Ron, alright?"

Scorpius nodded, still vibrating on the spot. "Got it. Let's go!"

Taking his hand, they tossed the Floo powder and stepped through to The Three Broomsticks. It was quiet in the small pub with the students all back at the castle. The few patrons that mingled around, sharing a meal or drink, looked up as Draco came through with Stella. Hermione could see the questions on people's lips, their desire to ask if it was all real burning within them.

"Mrs. Malfoy," a middle-aged man shouted from a nearby booth. "Is it true you slept with Ronald Weasley?"

"What do you think of your husband marrying Astoria Greengrass behind your back?" someone else chimed in.

"I heard he wasn't even Imperiused during the war. He probably faked his memories just like his father—"

"Enough!" Hermione yelled. Silence weighed heavily in the room as the patrons sat shocked. "I am _not_ here to answer your questions or listen to you wonder aloud about the intimate details of mine and my family's lives, especially in front of my children. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a birthday party to attend."

As they exited the pub, she could hear the whispers follow, though at least they had the decency to try to be quiet this time.

"Don't worry about them, love," Draco said, twisting their fingers together.

Grumbling, mostly to herself, she mumbled, "I hate them."

* * *

The Hall of Heroes was surprisingly quiet, considering it was a Sunday and school was still in session. There were a few groups of people lingering about, talking to some of the other portraits. Harry and Ginny had already arrived with their three children, letting James and Lily run around the enclosed space. Little Ron was trying to toddle after his older siblings, but he was still uneasy on his small legs.

"James! Lily!" Scorpius yelled the minute he saw them and took off after his friends.

Draco Summoned another bench for him and Hermione to sit on. He held Stella while Hermione began unwrapping all of her layers. Even with magic and the ability to cast a spell and keep the baby warm, Hermione was set on using hats, mittens, and winter cloaks to keep their children safe from the cold.

"Blimey, 'Mione, could you add any more layers to the poor thing?" Ron scoffed. "Are you a witch or not?"

"Well happy early birthday to you, Ronald," Hermione replied sarcastically. She pulled Stella from Draco's arms to feed her.

Scorpius, James, and Lily ran up to where the adults were sitting, and Scorpius sandwiched himself between his parents.

"Happy birthday, Uncle Ron!"

"My birthday?" Ron gasped, feigning surprise. "Why, I must be one hundred and fifty-three by now. Is that right?"

The three children burst out into fits of giggles.

"Nooooo," Lily said. "You're silly, Uncle Ron."

"Not one hundred and fifty-three? I must be older than that then." He lifted a hand and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Six hundred seems appropriate."

"You're forty—" Scorpius began before Draco cut him off, shaking his head.

"Lower," he mouthed to his son.

The little boy nodded, his blond hair and soft curls bouncing with the movement. "You're thirty."

Ron gasped again, his jaw popped open wide. "Thirty? Already? Where has the time gone?"

"I don't mean to interrupt," a young woman said, walking over to their group. "I'm heading out, and I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. It was great seeing you again. Make sure you take care of Simon. Don't let him get into too much trouble."

Turning to look at the woman, Draco's eyes widened. He nudged Hermione and motioned his head towards the interruption, trying to get his wife to look.

"How much trouble can he _really_ get into around here?" Ron teased. "Besides, he's your _older_ brother, Sarah."

Hermione turned her head quickly, careful not to jostle Stella. "Sarah?"

Standing no more than an arm's breadth away from them was the woman — though at the time she was just a girl — Hermione had pointed out to him a few years prior at one of the book releases; the same one that had stood up for him against Rowling herself. Her hair was the same brown as Hermione's, minus the riotous curls she still fought with. Dressed in well-tailored robes, it was clear to Draco that Sarah wasn't a Muggle as they'd once suspected.

Sarah brought her attention from Ron's portrait to the bench where Draco sat with his family. She pressed her lips together for a moment before smiling brightly. "I was wondering when we would get to meet officially."

Passing Stella into Ginny's waiting arms, Hermione and Draco both stood, walking around to stand in front of the younger woman.

"You're a witch?" Hermione asked. "All this time, you knew about our world?"

Sarah shoved her hands into the pockets of her robes. "I wanted to tell you when I first met you but we were in a crowded room full of Muggles and a woman who seemed intent on making a profit off of your life. I didn't really think it was the time or place for a proper introduction."

"You seemed so invested in the series though. We even saw you at a book release a few years ago — wait, those robes weren't fake, were they?" Hermione's brow furrowed as she put the pieces together. Draco pressed his hand to her lower back, rubbing calming circles.

"Definitely not fake," Sarah laughed. "Though if my mum finds out I wore my school robes to a Muggle bookshop, she'll have my wand. She didn't know I was going to those events. I just kept telling her I was going to Diagon Alley and she was none the wiser."

"So when you defended me to the author, what was that?" Draco asked, curiosity getting the best of him. At the time he had been impressed that a child was able to see the good in a fictional character, even when the author had other intentions.

The faint sound of conversations hummed around them as Draco and Hermione waited patiently for Sarah's response.

Finally, she said, "I grew up in Hogsmeade — one of the few families that actually live in the village. It was safe there so my mum and dad let Simon and I go about on our own a lot, only telling us to keep out of the way of the students when they came down on weekends. I remember seeing you together, holding hands or just snogging in an alley."

"You were spying on us?" Draco asked, lifting a brow.

"No! No, nothing like that." Sarah paused. "Even before those silly Muggle books were released, I knew the stories of you four. Brave and heroic, saviours of the wizarding world. My mum is a Muggleborn and she would take me to London to visit her parents. We stopped by a bookshop one day and I recognised the name of it from the stories I heard growing up. I've never admitted this to anyone, but I _may_ have stolen that book. I started reading them and I could quickly tell that it just wasn't right."

Hermione interrupted her. "What do you mean? You would have been — what, seven? — when the war happened. How do you remember us from that young?"

"I remember seeing you together after the war. The way you were with each other, I knew there was no way Draco had been that cruel to you while in school."

"He was still a prat," Ron interjected. "I'd like to remind you all that I puked up slugs in second year because of him."

Scoffing, Draco turned and looked at the portrait of his friend. "You tried to hex me and it backfired. I'd hardly say that was _my_ fault."

"And Simon?" Hermione asked, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand. "He's your brother?"

Sarah nodded, casting a smile over to where Simon's portrait hung next to Colin Creevey's. "He was four years older than me. When the battle happened, we snuck onto the Hogwarts grounds to watch. It was like fireworks going off everywhere. A stray curse came and—" Her smile faltered and she blinked away tears. "He protected me."

"A true hero," Draco added.

"Exactly. Anyway, I knew the stories were wrong because of what I'd seen. As they came out, my point was only proven further. Wherever the author got her facts from, she must have misunderstood it all."

Hermione gasped and turned her head to face Draco. "Portraits and ghosts. They see everything."

"Yes," Draco said, unsure of where Hermione's mind had run off to. "What about it?"

"Simon!" She quickly walked over to where the young boy waited, Draco close behind her. "Do you remember a woman coming in to visit shortly after the war? She would have been young, blonde, very pretty. She probably asked a lot of questions about Harry."

"Of course, I remember her. Ron wouldn't stop blushing and it was funny," Simon laughed. "What about her?"

"Did you happen to catch her name? Or anything specific about her?"

The boy was quiet, clearly trying to think back to that day. "Katie? Kath? Katherine?" He tapped his finger against his lip and then gasped. "Kathleen! It was Kathleen."

Hermione grinned at him, her eyes bright. "I could just hug you! Thank you, Simon."

"Hey!" Ron called from the other side of the room. "If you're done complimenting Simon, can we get on with celebrating my seven thousandth birthday?"

* * *

**November 2010**

"The last one," Draco said, settling into the seat next to Hermione. He placed the bag of popcorn between them, laughing as she immediately reached in and took a handful.

"Not the last one," she replied before biting down on a kernel with a satisfying crunch. "This is only the first half. That's why it says 'part one'."

Harry groaned on the other side of Hermione. "They're really making the war into _two_ films?"

"It's all for money," Ginny explained. "And we aren't getting a Knut of it. Any chance you've found _Kathleen_ , Hermione? I'd like to see my fair share."

Leaning forward, Draco held up his finger and levelled his gaze with Hermione's. She pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

"No talk of she-who-must-not-be-named," he explained to a confused Harry and Ginny. "There hasn't been any traction now that we have a first name. Kingsley still thinks Rita isn't involved and won't listen until we can prove otherwise. There are no records of a Kathleen anywhere, and the age of the woman Hermione met at the book signing and the woman Ron spoke to after the war don't match up. So, unless more information falls into our laps, we're not discussing her."

"Yes, sir." Ginny giggled before leaning over to Hermione and whispering loudly, "If he's like this in the bedroom, I can see why you couldn't keep your hands off him back in school."

"I'm right here," Harry interjected. He opened his mouth to say more but the lights in the cinema began to dim.

Draco's hand found Hermione's, twisting their fingers together. He wasn't sure how much this film would cover in terms of his last year, but he had a feeling it wasn't going to be easy to watch regardless.

* * *

"Who on _earth_ did they cast to play me?" Ginny complained as they left the cinema. "That kiss before the wedding"—she shuddered—"was absolute rubbish."

"I don't know, I've seen you and Potter kiss. I'd say the film was fairly accurate in that sense." Draco smirked at her.

Cutting them off before they could cause a scene, Hermione turned to Harry. "What ever happened to Dudley?" she asked.

"He's living in Leeds with his wife and daughter," he explained. "We exchange cards every Christmas; nothing formal, just a 'hello, how are things'."

"That's nice. I'm glad he's alright," she said thoughtfully. "What about his parents?"

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "I received a nasty letter from my uncle shortly after the war ended and Dudley and I started talking again. Vernon told me if he ever saw my face he'd be contacting the police. I can't imagine how he felt when the first piece of _Harry Potter_ merchandise came out and suddenly my face was everywhere. I'd like to think that's karma enough for everything they put me through."

"Speaking of things people went through," Ginny said. "What was that with Malfoy Manor? The Mudblood scar? That wasn't in the book, was it?"

Shaking her head, Hermione pushed up her left sleeve, exposing her forearm. "Not in the book, not in real life."

"What a strange thing to change. I wonder why they did that?"

"I don't know, but I imagine any 'Dramione' fans will love that symbolism," Hermione drawled. " _Draco_ with his Dark Mark and _Hermione_ with her Mudblood scar. How fitting for the lion and snake to fall in love all marked up like that."

Draco leaned down and kissed her quickly. "If people need some silly scars to see that we're the right match for each other, they aren't looking properly."

"Take me home?" Hermione whispered, smiling at him suggestively. "We have a tradition to uphold."

* * *

**July 2011**

The lights in the cinema slowly lightened, casting a warm glow around the large space. Hermione sat quietly, her hand clasped tightly in Draco's. That was it. The end of an era.

"Now what?" she asked quietly, unsure of what to do now that there were no more books to read or films to see.

Ginny was the first to stand. She stretched her arms up over her head before reaching down and taking Harry's hand, pulling him to his feet as well. "Mum and dad still have the kids for the night and the Leaky isn't far from here. Want to get a pint?"

Looking to where Draco sat, his gaze still focused on the screen, Hermione asked him, "What do you think? Want to go?" His face didn't even show recognition of her words. "Draco? Are you alright?"

His head turned to look at her slowly, his eyes wide. "I don't really look like that now, do I?"

"What?"

"That—" He pointed to the screen where the credits were still rolling. "I'm not _balding_ , am I? I mean, I know it's a few years off, but I don't look that _old_ , right?"

Hermione let out a relieved laugh. "No, darling, you don't look anything like that. Come on, let's get a drink."

The foursome left the cinema, following the crowd of people leaving as well. Some of them were wiping away tears, while others seemed to be bubbling over with excitement.

"I hope there's more," someone said as the group walked by. "I hope Rowling decides to continue the story. I want to know what happens with Albus when he goes to school."

Hermione sighed. "For our sake, I hope she doesn't."

Once they were away from the Muggles, they each Apparated to Diagon Alley and made their way into the Leaky. Most of the tables were full, but Ginny managed to find one near the back for the four of them.

"What's your plan now?" she asked Hermione when their husbands went to the bar to order drinks. "With Rowling, I mean."

Running her fingers through her hair, Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure. I've exhausted all my options, Kingsley won't even listen to me until I have proof that Skeeter is involved, and Rowling hasn't appeared in ages. So I'm not sure what else I can do."

"I just hate that you're still unable to get privacy."

Ginny was right. Even being at a table tucked away, Hermione could still see the occasional stare or whisper in their direction. She knew that at the bar someone would make an offhand comment to Draco about how terrible it was that he lied to the Ministry and dragged his family along with him.

"Me too, Gin, but what choice do I have?"

The men returned with their drinks, sliding them across the table before settling into the empty seats. Draco immediately wrapped his arm around Hermione and leaned in to kiss her temple.

"It's over, love. There's no more story for her to tell. People will eventually grow bored of us once more, and we can go back to our quiet lives," Draco said calmly. "And _if_ she pops back up again, we'll go to Kingsley right away. We'll make sure that he, or whoever is the Minister, knows about what's happening."

Hermione nodded. She sighed, trying to shake the weight that still rested on her shoulders. There was nothing left for her to do except move on. It was another puzzle left unsolved, another mystery that would never have a resolution.

She supposed that's how the world worked for most people, though. Not everyone grew up chasing villains and fighting off Death Eaters. Children weren't supposed to do that. They were supposed to play, and learn, and have fun with their friends. Quidditch matches shouldn't be stopped because Dementors interrupted, and Muggleborns shouldn't have to fear being killed because of their blood status.

When it all came down to it, Hermione had already done more than enough for the wizarding world. Along with Harry and Ron, and Draco when he was of sound mind, she had actually managed to create something for the wizarding world that their children would enjoy.

They'd given them safety.

"Where'd you go, Hermione?" Harry asked, waving his hand in front of her face.

Shaking her head, she smiled at him, her focus coming back to the conversation at hand. "Nowhere important." She lifted her glass, foam spilling over with the movement. "Cheers, to all of the things we _can_ save, and saying 'fuck it' to what we can't."

"To saying 'fuck it'," Draco agreed, lifting his glass along with hers.

Ginny raised hers next, joined by Harry's. "Cheers to that!"

The gentle sounds of glasses tapping against each other dulled the whispers and the rumours, even for a moment.

Surrounded by her husband and her best friends, Hermione wondered if it wouldn't be so hard just to ignore the rest of the world. She had ignored Skeeter's rumours before; surely it wouldn't be that hard to do it again. Especially not when she knew she had a wonderful family to come home to and people in her life that she could trust wholeheartedly.

With all of that, what else really mattered?

* * *

Draco held on tightly to his wife's waist, Apparating them into the grassy space behind their home.

"Do you remember," he began, pulling her close, "the day we got married? Our first dance, right here, in this very spot?"

He moved one hand to rest on her lower back, his other hand clasping hers. She rested her head on his shoulder and allowed him to sway them back and forth to the music that only they could hear.

"That was one of my favourite days," Hermione mused quietly. "I couldn't believe how lucky I was to be marrying you finally."

Stepping back to spin her, Draco relished in the laughter that escaped from her lips. It was light and youthful, a sound he could remember echoing off the halls of Hogwarts many years ago. Bringing her back to him, he captured her lips in his. It was brief, fleeting, but held the same promises he had shared with her over the past sixteen years.

"I'm the luckiest wizard alive," he whispered, resting his head against hers. "You have given me everything I've ever wanted and so much more."

Reaching up on her toes, Hermione kissed him again, this time with more heated passion. He twisted his fingers through her hair, keeping her pressed against him. Scorpius and Stella would be with the Weasleys for the remainder of the night, and so far he and Hermione had a tradition to uphold.

A loud _hoot_ came from overhead, the whooshing sound of owl wings interrupting them.

Draco groaned but broke the kiss. Though he knew it was unlikely, the owl could be coming from Molly or Arthur, and he would hate to miss something important about his children because he was too busy trying to shag their mum in the grass.

"We should see who that's from," Hermione said finally. She stepped away, taking his hand and leading him to the porch where the owl sat on a low post.

It wasn't the Weasley's owl waiting for them, but rather a nondescript one. It wasn't a Ministry one, or one that belonged to the Diagon Alley post. Attached to its leg was a thick scroll, the parchment wound so tightly it threatened to burst from the ribbon keeping it closed.

"Who sent it?" Draco asked, suddenly feeling uneasy.

Hermione reached out and took the scroll. The owl flew off immediately; clearly, whoever had sent it didn't care for a response. With the ribbon loosened, the parchment unrolled, exposing a long letter in unfamiliar writing. It wasn't done with a quill and ink.

"I think a Muggle wrote this," she said. Her fingers moved along the blue ink of the page. "It's written in pen."

"What does it say?"

It felt like hours passed while he waited for Hermione to read the letter out loud to him. There was something about it that felt important, life-altering. Like they would never be able to return to things before this very moment.

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Hermione began to read.

* * *

"Kingsley!" Draco yelled, his fist pounding on the door to the Minister's flat. "Kingsley, I know you're in there! I swear to Salazar and Merlin and Godric and all of the other witches and wizards of the past, if you do not open this door right now, I will blow it off its hinges."

The door swung open, revealing the Minister. He pulled the dressing gown he wore tighter around his midsection, his eyes focusing on Draco and Hermione standing in front of him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to my home at two in the morning?"

"We found her," Draco said. He thrust the parchment into Kingsley's hands. "It's all there. We have all the proof you need. And she's not done, not by a long shot."

The Minister scanned the letter, his face shifting from confusion to shock. When he reached the end, he looked back up. "I'll call the Aurors. I made you a promise, and I'll keep it. Rita Skeeter broke the Statute of Secrecy and she'll be brought to justice as a result."

"And the other?" asked Hermione. "What about her?"

Kingsley ran his hand over his face and looked back down at the parchment. "It says here, that with full knowledge of our laws, they knew what they were doing. We'll bring them in as well."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Draco stepped back and pulled Hermione close to his side. Her head fell to his shoulder and he could feel her shaking gently, finally releasing the pent up emotions.

"It's over," he whispered. "We got them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter! I had to leave it on a bit of a cliffy, one last time ;)
> 
> Final chapter is being posted September 27


	24. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here. We made it. Phew.

**July 2011**

_Hermione and Draco Malfoy,_

_My apologies for the late introduction, I suppose I should have done this sooner. Though, I believe I met you, Hermione, some years back. Quite the scare you gave me when you showed up at the book signing. There I was, worried that you would figure it all out and report me._

_My name is Joanne Kathleen, but I believe you know me better as J.K. Rowling. Since I know you’re one to research, I’ll stop you right now. You won’t find my name in any book or registration. There is no record of me at the Ministry or Hogwarts._

_I was born in July of 1965, the second daughter in an upper-class family. My sister, fourteen years older than me, told me the stories of her world. You see, while she is successful and talented, I am not. The family letdown. The one that ruined everything._

_Mayra Skeeter; how fitting of my parents to give me a name that means_ sea of bitterness _._

_I believe you may know my sister well, but perhaps you do not know her story._

* * *

**May 1966**

“Come now, settle down. He will be here any moment and I will not have you fussing when he arrives,” Rita soothed, rocking the baby in her arms. “Ditty!” 

The small house-elf appeared, holding her arms open and taking the infant from Rita. 

“Little Miss will not settle,” Ditty fussed. “Little Miss needs special care.”

Rita turned her back on the elf, facing the mirror in front of her and smoothing out the wrinkles of her dress. “Yes, yes. Just do what you need to. He will be here any moment and I cannot have him thinking that I can’t care for a child. What will he think of me then?”

The cries of her little sister had settled, and Ditty was finally able to transfer her to the cot in the corner of the nursery. “Little Miss will sleep now.” With a _pop_ , the elf disappeared from the room. 

Turning and walking to where the baby slept, Rita spoke softly. “I hope he likes me, Mayra. Mother and father have told me that while he is young, together we will be a powerful union. Our parents are drafting the contract today.”

No noise came from the cot, but she knew, if her sister could talk yet, she too would agree that Lucius Malfoy was a perfect match and that Rita was lucky to be betrothed to him.

* * *

 _My sister was madly in love with the idea of Lucius. Like most of the other purebloods, they were part of an arranged marriage, and while he was never quite_ in love _with Rita, they were well-matched and could grow into those feelings with time. She was over the moon with their union._

_Rita was three years older than him, and as a result of that, they were to marry on his seventeenth birthday. His father, Abraxas, was confident that they would be able to produce at least one blond, magically-gifted Slytherin heir for the Malfoy family._

_Unfortunately, I ruined everything._

* * *

**April 1971**

“Richard, while I appreciate your enthusiasm and Miss Skeeter’s natural magical skills, you have another daughter who has yet to show any signs of magic. I cannot have my son, my heir, enter into a magical binding where the chance of producing a Squib is possible.”

Rita sat quietly on the sofa next to Lucius, her left hand clasped tightly in his, the side of her engagement ring pinching the skin. She’d been wearing it since she was seventeen, and now, approaching twenty, the ring had become like an extension of her being. It showed her future, the potential she had from her upcoming nuptials, the status she would hold in the society. When she fell asleep at night, she could see the large picture of the two of them splashed across the front page. 

_Greatest wedding of all time_

_The most beautiful bride Europe has ever seen_

“She is just a late bloomer,” Richard, Rita’s father, explained. “Abraxas, even you know that there is no concern until the child is seven. Mayra isn’t even six yet.”

The child in question was sitting on Rita’s other side, happily flipping through the pages of a book. Like her older sister, Mayra was consumed by words. She would happily listen to Rita tell stories and even tried to tell her own in return. Of course, being five, many of those tales involved her stuffed bears going on adventures around the garden, but they were stories nonetheless. 

Abraxas stood, straightened the front of his robes, and began to pace the length of the sitting room. “I wish I could believe you, Richard. You and Elisa have raised Rita exactly as I wish my son’s future bride to be. She’s poised, disciplined, well-mannered. I have no doubts that she would make a fine Lady Malfoy. With the political climate being what it is, I know you understand how important it is for Lucius to have a proper wife by his side.” 

“Well, then it’s settled,” Richard said, standing to join the other man. “I see no reason for the marriage not to go forward as planned come June. Lucius will finish at Hogwarts and the wedding will be held the following week.”

Rita’s heart hammered in her chest. In just two month’s time, she would be married, finally. As Lucius aged from the entitled fourteen-year-old that she had been matched with into a well-respected man, Rita had grown to love him as well. She was certain that he was feeling it too.

“It is _not_ settled,” Abraxas snapped, causing a chill to seep through the room. “And you’ll do well to remember the status of your family to mine. Should this wedding go forward, it will be on _my_ terms, not yours, Richard. Now, if you’re through interrupting me, I’d like to continue.”

Richard, looking thoroughly scolded, sat back down in his seat. His wife, Elisa, rested her hand on his knee and gave him a soft smile. She played the part of an elite pureblood wife, knowing how it could benefit their family. Appearances were everything. 

_“We must present ourselves as what we want to be, Rita, not what we are now,” her mother had told her growing up._

“For generations, the Malfoy family has maintained a perfect lineage. We have produced no daughters, no half-bloods, no Squibs.” Abraxas stopped his pacing and levelled his gaze at Rita and Mayra. “Do you know how we ensure that?”

To an outsider, Richard looked calm and composed, but Rita knew him better than that. His Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed and beads of perspiration glistened on his brow despite the temperature regulating charms that had been cast. He was nervous, panicked, a mouse that had been trapped by a snake. 

“I can cast a spell right now that will tell me whether or not young Mayra is in fact a Squib. If there is no concern, as you say, then there shouldn’t be a problem. _Is_ there a problem, Richard?”

* * *

_The spell was cast and it was clear as day to everyone involved that I was no better than a Muggle. Worse, perhaps, since I was wasted potential. Rita’s engagement to Lucius was broken on the spot and she was left alone, twenty years old and with no prospect of marriage. For a pureblood woman, especially at that time, she was practically a spinster._

_The_ Daily Prophet _broke the story and Rita was devastated. No one of proper stature would want to marry my sister now that they knew I was a Squib. For Rita, marrying someone beneath her was a fate worse than death._

_It was announced a few weeks later that Lucius was to marry Narcissa Black. Their wedding the following spring made headlines across every magical newspaper and magazine._

Malfoy-Black Wedding: The Greatest Union in the Last Century

Narcissa Malfoy: Europe’s Most Beautiful Bride

_So you can imagine, my perspective of the Malfoy family has been tainted since I was young. In my mind, Lucius and his father were irredeemable for their actions. What evidence was there that Lucius and Rita would produce a Squib like me? And really, what was so bad about being a Squib?_

* * *

**September 1976**

“Look, Mayra, I know you wanted to go to Hogwarts, but it’s really not that great,” Rita said, trying to settle the tears that spilt from her sister’s eyes. “It’s just a large building full of stuffy teachers and itchy uniforms. You’re going to be much better off going to another school.”

Mayra looked up at her, her bottom lip quivering. “You’re lying. I know you are. You loved it there!”

“I know but _you_ wouldn’t like it. Without magic, it would be a nightmare for you. Besides, now we can spend more time together. I’ll take you to your Muggle school before going to the _Daily Prophet_. It’ll be alright.”

“Tell me a story?” 

Rita’s heart clenched at the sad look in Mayra’s eyes. She didn’t want to make things worse for her or to rub her magical abilities in her sister’s face. Her parents had continued on, pretending life was normal, never once stopping to ask Mayra how she was. They registered her for a Muggle school under a different name, _Joanne_ , and did everything they could to maintain their image as a perfect pureblood family. 

“Which story would you like to hear?” Rita asked, pulling Mayra close to her side. 

The young girl tucked a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear and wiped her cheeks. “The one about the red train and the magic boats?” 

“Oh, that’s a good one. Let’s see, once there was a young girl named Mayra, and she received a magical letter to go to a magical school…”

* * *

_Rita’s stories filled my childhood with magic that I could touch, could see, could feel. I was the heroine in all of them. I was finally going to a place I had dreamed of for as long as I could remember._

_I don’t remember much of the first wizarding war. Not because of my age, but because my parents tried to stay as neutral as possible. Looking back, I think they were trying to protect me from whatever was happening outside. It wasn’t safe for us, for them, for me._

_Rita was working for the paper and was focused on being promoted there, so she wrote about whatever they told her to. She told me fewer stories and I could tell that whatever was happening during the day while I was at school was wearing her down._

_I was sixteen when the war ended and it was like a weight had been lifted in our home. Rita had new stories with new names._

_Harry Potter._

_Brave, heroic, Harry Potter. Only a baby but he was the saviour. Even I, as a simple Squib, had been saved by him, or at least that’s what Rita told me. Things would be better now._

_A year after the war I went to university to study literature. Listening to Rita’s stories, I was inspired to tell my own. No one would ever believe me if I told them that everyone in my family carried a wand and could turn your hair purple just by mixing a few plants together. I could tell the stories of my childhood and people would call it fiction._

* * *

**September 1991**

“Mayra! Mayra, you will never believe this!” 

The flat was a mess, with crumbled papers and books everywhere. Rita was used to coming to her sister’s home and finding it in shambles, but this was a whole new level of disaster. 

“Rita,” Mayra said in surprise. She lifted her eyes from the notebook in front of her, black and blue scratches covering the page. “I wasn’t expecting you to visit.”

Waving her wand, Rita watched as the flat turned right. Papers were placed in proper stacks and books flew past her to their rightful place on the shelves. A few cups and saucers made their way to the kitchen and there was the faint sound of running water as the dishes began to clean themselves. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mayra mumbled. “I’m perfectly capable of cleaning things myself. You know, like a Muggle.”

“You’re not a Muggle, Mayra. Look, just — agh!” Rita thrust her hands into the air and turned on her heel. The click of her dragon skin pumps ticked against the wood floor, echoing around the small space. “Do you remember me telling you about Harry Potter?” 

When Mayra didn’t respond, Rita turned back to her. Her sister was still sitting at the small table, holding her face in one hand and balancing a pen in the other. It wasn’t exactly boredom on her face, but instead one of disinterest. 

“The one that saved us all, right?”

“Yes! He’s back! I was in Diagon Alley last week and I saw him and that half-giant I told you about, Hagrid. Young Potter is starting at Hogwarts today. I wonder what he’s been doing the last ten years?”

Sighing, Mayra stood from her seat and made her way to the kitchen. “I don’t know, Rita, but if anyone will figure it out, I’m sure it’ll be you.” 

* * *

_For the next few years, I struggled to make ends meet. I struggled to write something worthwhile. I struggled while trying to balance the life I had and the life I wanted._

_Rita would bring me copies of the_ Daily Prophet _and would tell me all the gossip she had heard about. When she brought up Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, telling me about their son who was the same age as Harry Potter, I wondered why she bothered to keep tabs on them. As a well-known journalist, surely she could ruin their lives._

“The Malfoys are not the type of people you want to piss off. It’s better to be on their side than to be against them.”

_She would be photographed attending their parties and galas, always sweet-talking Narcissa and Lucius or some other Ministry official. I was jealous of the dresses she would wear, covered in feathers and dragon scales and other magical materials I couldn’t even begin to pronounce. Rita was stunning and people loved her. She could get them drunk and listen as they bared their souls to the pretty blonde who came on her own._

_People had long forgotten about me and the tarnish I painted on the Skeeter name._

* * *

**October 1994**

Rita’s fist hammered against the door, the pounding sound sure to wake the neighbours. She wasn’t even sure if Mayra would be awake, or home, but her news was far too important to wait until morning.

The door opened with a loud creek as the hinges threatened to give way. Mayra stood on the other side in a dressing gown, her hair pulled high on her head in a messy heap. 

“Rita? What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

Pushing her way into the flat, Rita moved to the kitchen, pulled down two cups, and grabbed the bottle of red wine she knew her sister kept tucked away. “We’re celebrating.”

“Why are we celebrating at”—Mayra looked at the clock on the wall—”three in the morning? Can’t it wait?”

“No, it can’t, and if you’d let me install a Floo in your flat it wouldn’t have taken me nearly as long to get here. Do you have any idea how far the safest Apparition point is?” Two cups were placed on the table, the red liquid spilling over the edge. “I met Harry Potter tonight.”

Rita kicked her shoes off and propped her feet up on the chair next to her. Muggle wine was nowhere near as refined as elf wine, but with little time to go somewhere and buy a bottle, this would have to do in its place. 

“The Tri-Wizard Tournament is happening this year and I was at the school to meet the competitors for each school. I got there early to scope the place out — you know how important it is for me to be familiar with my surroundings — and some of the portraits were talking about Harry Potter. It was all too easy to get them to start talking. Such gossips.”

“So what? You’re going to write an article about a teen boy’s life? He can’t be more than fourteen now. How exciting could his life really be?”

Placing her feet on the ground, Rita leaned forward, excited. “That’s just it, Mayra. There’s been trolls and Basilisks and werewolves. I’m going to be spending a lot of time at the school this year, getting the scoop on Harry Potter. This is just the story I’ve needed to finally write that book I’ve been talking about. I can feel it.”

Mayra took a deep swig of her drink. She looked as if she were trying to formulate a thought, her lips pursing and twisting. Finally, she looked up at Rita and smiled. It was like they were back in their childhood home, sitting under a blanket with only the faint glow of Rita’s wand giving them light. It was nostalgic, familiar. 

“I’ve never heard of a Basilisk before. Tell me about those?” 

* * *

_I began hearing stories of Harry Potter’s friends. Hermione Granger. Ronald Weasley. Rita’s sources within the school were confident that Hermione Granger was romantically involved with one of the boys. It depended on the day, apparently._

_About a year later, Rita came to my flat and told me that not only was Hermione Granger_ not _dating Harry or Ron, but that she was actually romantically involved with none other than Draco Malfoy. The Malfoy boy. The son of the man who broke my sister’s heart._

_One of Rita’s few moments of kindness towards you all was keeping that story to herself. Even she knew what something like that would do. And as mentioned, it was better to keep the Malfoys on her side. That meant protecting Draco too._

_I suppose I ought to thank Rita for keeping that a secret. It was what encouraged me to write the_ Harry Potter _books. I could write a story of a magical boy and his two best friends and all of the adventures they have together._

_And I could make Draco Malfoy the villain._

_The ghosts and portraits at Hogwarts were all too willing to tell Rita what she wanted to know about Harry’s first year at Hogwarts. That was all I needed. Just one year._

_I saved every letter she sent, made notes across napkins in cafes and transcribed pieces of conversation. I helped her research her own story, knowing full well that she would never be able to publish it in the wizarding world. Harry was far too protected and someone was bound to put a stop to it._

_Finally, after all my hard work, I had written a novel that would sell. My publishers wanted more of_ Harry Potter _’s story, and I knew I would need Rita’s help to get it._

* * *

**August 1997**

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Mayra squealed, gripping Rita’s hand tightly. “How on earth did you make this happen?”

Rita paused on the steps outside Hogwarts castle and turned, placing her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “I told Minerva that you were my niece, Kathleen, visiting from out of town. You’re interested in a career in journalism and are helping me with my article on the school’s recovery efforts. That’s why I had to change your appearance to make you look younger.” 

“How am I able to see it, though? I thought the castle didn’t allow Muggles to see it?” 

“You’re not a Muggle, Mayra,” Rita explained. “Squibs don’t fall under the same magical signatures. Now, don’t wander off. It’s a large castle and honestly, I don’t know if I’d be able to find you with how much has changed in the last three months.”

They wandered through the school, making notes on the various rooms and speaking to the ghosts as they passed. It was exciting for Rita to finally be able to experience Hogwarts with her sister. Though their age difference meant they never would have been able to go to school together anyway, she had once imagined coming back for Quidditch games, sitting in the Slytherin stands as they cheered on their house team. 

“I have to show you the dungeons next. I remember how excited you were to hear about the giant squid.” 

Turning around, Rita expected to see her sister waiting, parchment and quill in hand, but the space was empty and Mayra was gone.

* * *

_Rita and I may have gone to the school under the guise of writing an article, but we were both there for the same reason. To write our books._

_I worked my way through the school, talking to portraits on different floors. I knew which room I wanted to find, but stumbled across a bathroom and a whiny ghost that was all too keen to tell me about you._

_The thing that many of you witches and wizards forget about Muggles, is that we have technology that you couldn’t even dream of. I recorded all of my conversations that day. The ones with the Fat Lady, and Moaning Myrtle, and even your friend Ronald. Sweet Ronald. It was all too easy to get him to share your stories._

_I left Hogwarts that day with more than enough information to write six more books. Knowing that Draco was going to be a villain, I didn’t care to learn about his relationship with Hermione Granger or the fact that he was actually quite good friends with Harry Potter._

_Harry was my protagonist, and it was his story I was going to tell._

* * *

**July 2003**

Rita waved her wand and pulled down the various wards she had set up at Mayra’s request. She didn’t care that she was coming over unannounced, nor did she care about what she might find on the other side. This was important and there was no time to waste. 

“Mayra, what is this?” she demanded. Tossing the large tome onto the kitchen table with a _smack_ , she looked up at her sister. “Want to explain to me what in Merlin’s name this is?”

Picking up the text, Mayra turned the book over in her hands, tracing the words on the back of the pages. She flipped open a few pages before bringing the book to her nose and inhaling. 

“Mayra!”

“How strange, that this J.K. Rowling person had the same idea as you to write a book about Harry Potter.” 

Anger twisted in Rita’s stomach. Her own sister, using her stories to make a profit behind her back. It was one thing for Mayra to do it, but it was another for it to be done in secret. 

“How could you?” she whispered through clenched teeth. “I told you those stories to make you happy! Not so you could go around and turn a profit off of them! Do you have any idea how many laws you’ve broken? I could go to Azkaban over this!”

Mayra slammed the book back on the table. “You were going to do the same! I just was smart enough to know they would sell better to Muggles. And they have! Rita, look at where I live! How else do you think I’ve been able to afford a home like this? Why do you think I moved from London to Scotland? We won’t go to Azkaban because we won’t get caught.”

Rita couldn’t speak. In truth, she hadn’t put much thought into her sister’s move. She didn’t understand Muggle currency or employment well enough to understand why Mayra was moving. Hindsight being what it was, she should have realised that her sister’s home on the Dover Cliffs was totally isolated and perfect for escaping reality. The magical wards should have clued her in that something was off. 

When she stumbled across the book at a shop in London, her jaw had dropped. Not only was there one book, but it was as if the entire store was filled with them. There were shirts and fake wands and stacks upon stacks of books. It was a gold mine. 

“I want in. If you’re going to be using _my_ stories then I want a cut of the profit.”

A slow smile spread across Mayra’s face and she moved around some of the papers on the table. She plopped down into one of the chairs and motioned for Rita to do the same. 

“I’m so glad you said that. Listen, I’m stuck on this one part of the sixth book. Think you can help me?”

* * *

_We poured hours into the last two books. Rita wasn’t completely on board with my direction to make Draco a villain, but when she saw that I intended to save Lucius from an untimely death, she quickly changed her tune. Draco’s actions in your sixth year only helped solidify what I had already begun to do. We barely had to change anything that year._

_Rita’s strings within the wizarding community made it easy for us to keep the word of the books out of the hands of witches and wizards. We didn’t want the Ministry coming in and taking everything away from us; not when we were so close._

_From the beginning, we knew that when the final book was released, we would leave England and find a new home in America. The books and films had gained so much popularity that we knew it was only a matter of time before even Rita’s connections failed us._

_Two days before_ Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows _was released, Rita quit her job and we left for New England, finding it to be both beautiful and ironic. Visiting New York City was inspiring to us both. The rich history, the way they once interacted with Muggles, the stories Rita discovered while there. We were only there for a couple of years before returning to Europe. I missed the familiarity of England, and Rita didn’t like that she was unable to publish her stories in any of the papers here. We got what we wanted out of the country, but it was time to come home._

_Now that the books have been published and the films all released, I felt it fitting to get everything out in the open. I have so much more planned, but I won’t be able to do it if I have you both trying to find me._

_There are two new projects planned, and I think you might like them. One takes place in New York City in the 1920s; Newt Scamander’s story. We heard so much about him when we were there, and I just_ need _to tell his story too._

_The second project is something completely fictional. I have this image in my mind of Harry’s son Albus trying to find his place in the world, living in his father’s shadow. I want it to be a play, something that Muggles can go see and experience and feel like I did when I first saw magic as an adult._

_I have one more idea, but I would need your help. I want to give Muggles access to your world. I want to give them a place where they can learn as much as possible about the wizarding world._ Pottermore _, we’ll call it._

_Hermione and Draco, I ask that you take a moment and think about this before you run off to the Aurors. Did Rita and I cross a line by publishing a fictitious account of your story? Perhaps. But did our stories bring joy to millions of people around the globe and ignite excitement inside them? Yes._

_In all good stories, can we not find both truth and lies? In the end, does it really matter whether or not every single detail was true? I’d like to believe that the magic your stories have spread around the world to others is more important than the fact that some of it was fabricated._

_But that’s the beauty of storytelling, isn’t it? Getting to determine what the reader knows. Truth or lies, there’s magic in all of it._

_Your world deserves to be shared. Muggles shouldn’t have to live in a world without magic. So what if they found out all of it was real?_

_Would it really be that bad?_

_All of my love and eternal gratitude,_

_Mayra Skeeter_

_(J.K. Rowling)_

* * *

**19 Years Later**

Approaching her fifty-first birthday and looking to downsize into a smaller home with Draco, Hermione was having a hard time adjusting — to the thought of moving, of retirement, of being something other than ‘Scorpius and Stella’s mum’.

As she and Draco spent their Saturday packing Scorpius and Stella’s things into boxes, preparing to send them to their respective flats or into storage, she couldn’t help but reflect on the events of her life — their life. 

“What about this?” Draco asked, holding up a small broom that once belonged to Stella. “Which box?”

Realistically, she knew the broom should be donated to one of the children’s Quidditch leagues, but it had been Stella’s first broom. Stella, who was following in her aunt’s footsteps and playing professional Quidditch. Stella, who showed up late to every family function with dirt on her trousers. Stella, who loved with every ounce of her being.

But that small broom… How could a mother just let that go? 

Sensing her hesitation, Draco added it to the box marked ‘Storage’. The broom shrunk in size and nestled itself safely amongst the Muggle school projects and Stella’s first knit Weasley sweater. The memories of skinned knees and trips to St. Mungo’s, all boxed up so perfectly. 

Reaching down, Hermione picked up the neatly folded pile of Scorpius’ clothes, each of them in perfect condition. So much like Draco, so afraid to have a single hair out of place, but so willing to do anything for those he loved. Willing to spend hours scouring through the Black vaults in order to find the perfect ring before marching directly into Harry’s office at work and asking for his blessing to propose to Lily. 

“Do you think they’ll want any of this?” Hermione asked Draco, holding up the clothing. “I know they’re not even married yet, and there has been absolutely no talk of babies, but… but we should keep these right? Just in case?”

“Why don’t we set them aside and let him and Lily decide that when they come over tomorrow for dinner?”

She pressed her lips together and nodded, knowing that Draco was right. His words told her what she needed to hear, but the soft smile on his face said something different. Caring words that told her she wasn’t crazy for wanting to hold on to memories a little longer. 

“Hermione—” he motioned for her to come to where he stood “—what should we do with these?”

A stack of books, seven to be exact, sat neatly at the end of one of the shelves. The covers were frayed and torn and cracked. Next to them was a folder bursting at the seams with parchment, frantic notes written across every available surface.

“Do you want to keep them?” he asked. “The books and notes?”

It had been nearly two decades since the arrest and trials of Rita Skeeter and J.K. Rowling — no, _Mayra Skeeter_ — and Hermione still felt moments of anxiousness around it all. Following the trails, the rumours that floated through the wizarding world shifted from Harry Potter’s story to that of Lucius Malfoy’s first engagement to Rita. Articles that had been buried over time resurfaced, spreading more truth and lies to whoever would listen. 

Like any good news cycle, it died down once more. By the time the Malfoy and Potter kids went to Hogwarts, no one cared about what the fictional books said about their parents; their classmates wanted to hear the true stories. 

Sighing, Hermione shook her head. “Burn them.”

“The books?” Draco asked shocked, eyeing her as if she might be ill. “You want to burn the _books_?”

“No! Merlin, no. The notes! Burn those.”

“And the books?” he asked again. 

Hermione levitated the stack down from the shelf and into her waiting hands. She thought of the hours they spent reading them with Scorpius and Stella, knowing that one day they would attend Muggle primary school and need to be knowledgeable about something this significant. She was proud of her children and the way they handled learning the truth and the lies. Like their own version of Saint Nicholas, they kept the secret from their classmates, instead choosing to join in on the excitement that maybe magic was real.

After a moment, she said, “Let’s donate them to one of the Muggle libraries. I can’t help but think that maybe some child out there needs to believe that love really can conquer evil. _We_ know it’s all lies, but they don’t.”

Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and placed a featherlight kiss to her forehead. She nuzzled into his touch, thankful that after all this time, some things would never change. 

“With Scorpius and Stella off on their own, and us moving into a smaller home, I think it’s time we close this chapter of our lives. I’d rather focus on true stories now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sappiness ahead, fair warning. 
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has been following along on this little fic. Your comments, kudos, and time mean so much more to me than I can ever put into words. I never expected anyone to read this, but the fact that any of you did, and kept coming back, means the absolute world to me. 
> 
> To TriDogMom, my alpha; thank you for jumping in part way through and rescuing me when I felt overwhelmed and lost. I owe so much of this to you, and I cannot thank you enough for your time and support. 
> 
> To Curly_Kay, my cheerleader; your excitement (and torment) over this kept me going. Thank you for your undying support and love and kindness, and for putting up with my neediness. 
> 
> To PotionChemist, my beta; I owe so much to you. For taking a newbie writer under your wing and fixing my copious mistakes along the way, for being a shoulder to lean on when I needed one, for the endless late night calls. I am so grateful for this story in that it brought you into my life. I'm so glad I get to keep you. 
> 
> I'm taking a tiny break from writing/posting right now while I catch up on beta and alpha duties, but I promise I have more stories up my sleeve. Follow me on Tumblr @BreathofthePhoenix for updates!
> 
> Love you all 💜


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